Sestina

I'm a poet, in case you didn't know it. (Pause for effect...) Ha! In one of my creative writing classes I took at Tri-C, I was introduced to a new poetic form. I learned what a sestina was, and I wrote my first sestina ever. "A sestina is a fixed verse form consisting of six stanzas of six lines each, normally followed by a three lined envoi. The words that end each line of the first stanza are used as line endings in each of the following stanzas, rotated in a set pattern" (Wikipedia)

I'd like to share my first sestina with you all! Here it is, it's called Eve's Garden. 

First, she slices his favorite passion fruit.

Next, she checks her makeup, retouching her eyes.

She smooths her dress down over her curves and her body feels soft.

The mood is relaxed, so winding down will not be hard.

White tulips beautify the table with the wobbly legs,

The wine is dry and the oysters are wet.

A quiet rain begins, and the fruit is getting wet.

Anxious droplets shower the fruit.

She furiously wishes the fruit tray had legs,

For everything must be perfect before her lovers eyes.

The sudden knock on the door is hard,

But soon becomes rhythmic and soft.

He grips her body and it is indeed soft.

A moist kiss, the rain made his lips wet.

The embrace was eternal and letting go was hard.

Once in the kitchen, he samples the fruit,

Devouring each piece while being undressed by her eyes.

Still unable to keep his eyes off her long, shapely legs.

Bodies meet, and kisses trail down her never ending legs.

His kisses are soft.

He stares at her and love stares back from her eyes.

Caressing her femininity, her inner soul is wet.

Her fragrance smells sweet like island fruit.

His touch is so gentle, yet his spirit is so hard.

Suppressing thoughts of his spouse is hard.

Even while wrapped in a blanket of legs,

Even after tasting the most delicious fruit,

Even after entering her body, so soft

Even after swimming in an ocean so wet.

All he could see was his wife's desperate eyes.

The windows of the soul are the eyes,

The texture of guilt is heavy and hard.

Her climax brought on tears, making her face wet.

The ceiling was painted with brushstrokes from her legs.

All of a sudden, his embrace wasn't so soft,

Pounding forcefully like falling fruit.

Her glazing eyes stare down at her trembling legs.

Once hard has exploded and it's form cowers back to soft,

The flashback of the first kiss satiates the hunger for forbidden fruit.