A Final Visit to EdenCatherine Esposito Prescott
The voice that plucked them from the garden did not come from the heavens – not the sun-eye nor the moon-eye. It was a voice that tickled their feet like fire. The sun rose. The moon set. Adam ran; Eve danced, each away from the other. And they never looked back.
Catherine Esposito Prescott Read Bio Author Discusses Poems
|©copyright 2004-2019, No Tell Motel. All poems ©copyright the authors.|