Garden Of Edith Poem by Ijanric Howe

Edith welcomes you to see
her bud-luscious apple tree;
she ushers you in
with her awful grin,
and pours cup after cup of tea;

but into a trance you fall,
head on the ivy-clad wall;
of apples you’ll dream,
and serpents unseen,
but the apples are far too small;

with the devil lifting her guise,
you seemingly reach for your prize;
but the fruit you pluck
and tenderly suck
will soon enough prove unwise;

Edith welcomes you to see
her fruit-heavy apple tree,
with your one-good eye
you see the tree die,
and her garden ceases to be.