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This Garden

This stems from the bucket
The rudimentary touch on my brow
The vegetables were stony that day
And I attempted to cool myself

He saw my terrorising body
The munching of my demon jaw
And skulked into the Garden
Telling Eve love's no more

Until his bones became red raw
And twisted to remind him of
My tenderest call
My feathered moor

Saviour of the night
I could be yours in the dark
To hide the Garden's scars
And my very own.

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