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Who Is Eve?
She is that girl you always meet,
As you walk down a busy street;
That officemate across the hall,
Or someone's partner at a ball;
That dearest love now in your arms,
Or song diva with haughty charms,
Covered with beauty's coat-of-mail;
Or well exposed, in fashion's trail;
Are cavemen spared these glaring sights?
Just clubbing Eve on mating nights?
Of lore and myths sages employ,
Nefertiti, Helen of Troy,
Still escape man's comprehension,
Eve's mysterious predilection;
What is she made of, cream and spice?
And liking men, but fearing mice?
Adam knows not how Eves are done,
He was asleep when God made one.
poem
by
Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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