Chronicles of the Monastery: III

In her last years there
before she left the neighborhood
for good
she went boy berserk.

The monastery became the place
of scandalous puppy love seductions.
A certain grove of trees was her favorite,
growing thickly and darkly,
lending just the right light
to set the mood for love.

She would nonchalantly invite
the flavor of the week
for an innocent walk
a ramble through her favorite haunts.

They would walk with her up the long driveway
hemmed in by the tall disapproving tree chaperones
the boy, a lamb being led to the slaughter,
the girl, a juvenile temptress in training.

She would veer off to the right
to the secret place, well protected from seeing eyes.
The boy would fall every time under the combined
spell of the sweet young girl, and the romance of her grove.

She would take his hand and say, "Isn't it beautiful in here?"
Looking trustingly up into his protective eyes
silently entreating him, awakening him to the possibility
what he had not yet realized he wanted to do.

The poor victim, helpless to resist
would grant her unspoken wish
and upon her soft young lips,
bestow a kiss.