It Could Have Been Eden Poem by Gert Strydom

Let me tell you something that I remember
from so long ago
but it seems like only yesterday to me
and is still fresh in my memory.

A dusty sand track meandering
past a hillock and a great oak tree
and in the early morning ripe lying like snow
and a spring flowing with clear sweet water,
the freshest that I have ever tasted,
the sun glowing as a huge orange ball
the sky bright blue

and you swimming in the stream
totally naked without concern
as if it was the most natural thing
and that winter could have been spring
and I couldn’t stop looking at your body,
your big breast and aroused nipples
while I was feeling perverse, wicked
and you smiled at me gently.

How old had we been?
A boy of thirteen, but grown to full size
and a girl of sixteen with the body of a woman
and you were the most beautiful
delightful being that I had ever seen
and on that first meeting

totally nude you led me by the hand
to the barn, to the haystack
that we used as a bed
where you laid with me,
laid on your back
learnt me the pleasures of your body

and the taste of your lips,
the touch of your fingertips
I remember, but much more
the sheer rapture
of making love to you

and then suddenly, unexpectedly
the angel with the flaming lantern
and weapon in the other hand
stood in the barn door
which led almost to our capture

and while he was looking,
trying to see if anything
had crept into the barn
we lay totally motionless
and you demanded another kiss
and when he walked out
you were aflame with even more passion.