The storm
and a counting of raindrops.
A kind of fantasy
in this eggshell world.
Let it pass
over oak and in shallow pools too
rich
too rich
to appreciate its complex
verocity.
Oh, but me designing these
simple designs to
a terracotta life.
Kind words seek penance.
Alarmed, the gift of reason
secludes
the vanishing byways of a canal
long lost to disrepair.
If a dream then a dream.
But if?
marcellosrevenge 