An arm thick as the final straw.
The lure
Of the not quite forbidden.
Many have ridden
Down the hidden
track:
Lush
With fragrant bush
And unable or unwilling to turn back
Have themselves been caught
In a mire of desire,
(A secret fire
They aught
Not to have ignited
Or in it’s flames delighted.
‘Ere they found
Their desire was with sorrow crowned