The Poetry Tree

If there were such a thing
As a poetry tree

It would be a simple tree
And grow simple fruit

Like the apple or the peach
But the fruit would grow

High out of the reach
Of every passerby

And each piece of fruit
Would remain personified

In a perfectly ripened state
Regardless of the season

And eating this fruit
Would be strictly forbidden

But if for some reason
You could enjoy this feast

You would find it had no taste
Neither bitter nor sweet

But existed for one reason -
To solicit temptation