The odour of an apple pie. br Fresh baked and set aside to cool. br Would tempt a stronger soul than I br to discard sense and play the fool. br Beneath that crisp and golden crust br there lie stewed apples rich and sweet. br Arousing a small boy’s greedy lust. br My mother is nobody’s fool br she knew just what I hand in mind br and well before I broke the rule, br She took a switch to my behind. br It was my turn I had to learn br though mother’s kind she can be stern. br br 4-Sep-08 br br http: blog.myspace.compoeticpiersbr br ivor or ivor.