If I had an apple
i would have eaten it with her,
sitting close by,
looking eye to eye,
under the umbrella shade
of a tree, near a corn field,
with the view of a lone hill,
at the far, far end.

An ****** experience
it would have been for us,
turned on by her eyes
a bite I would take from the apple,
then, it's her turn
as soon as she does that
I would ****** it from her, once again,
tasting her saliva on it
would electrify my tongue,
and evoke distant animal past.

Green corns sway desirous
in the playful naughtiness of the wind,
slowly proximity works, as the worst intoxicant.
By and by nature's prompt,
gets in to our blood streams.

She would get bold, sensing
that lonely spot's intent,
slowly remove her jacket first
then one by one, the rest,
standing before me naked,
sensuality  personified.

I am an illogically crazy wind,
swooping, over the water: her.
I'd repeatedly blow over her,
till she uncontrollably erupts

she has eaten from my apple,
I've tasted hers;
without deceit or evil, we indulge,
and partake the gifts we within hold.