When morning created the mist
I was happy as a child in Eden
wandering and singing down
every magic lane and byway.
But what was true
was that
these avenues
were mad soft-turning traps
that led me back
to Eden's placid streams
where there is no woe
and children never grow.
kendall thomas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/children-of-eden/
