Sin was our enchanted garden
where fairies played love games,
  haunt of voluptuous women smelling musk,
inducing carnal wishes
sin was an aphrodisiac, we took with relish,
we were young, an age, intents are pure
sin was she and me doing all the fab things
sin was the carefree times
for which we pine there after.
now it can be told;
when we sinned, we did it with innocence