We are born
In naked innocence.
Soon, as man grows
He goes
To the expense of clothes,
As he is from his innocence torn.

We are obsessed
With dress.
A girl’s short skirt
Causes a man to flirt
And desire to Perceive
Eve
As she was in Paradise,
(But now in vice)
For tis impossible to recreate
Eden’s state.

Perchance the serpent thinks
As he drinks
From the fountain of love,
Of how he fell,
As star dust
From the sky above,
Into this heaven, this hell,
And now is bound
All around,
With what some call love, and others lust