Mud houses

There is

a lost paradise

with petite mud houses

built on damp days

with possibilities

of unruly mirth

‘nd precocious honey bees

periscoping over the

flower beds

to look out for the

goofy dog

who visits only

on rainbow mornings.

Give me

all this ‘nd more

and

let us

dance in embrace

and stand

shoulder to shoulder

hands clasped and

clenched lips

closer in fibre and being

now more than ever

in mud houses

on rainy days.

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