Come back around to the reality
that has been set
jello in a mold
pressing out pennies
when the dancing comes to a hault
and the ladies dresses are torn
and the slippers have holes in the toes
fog coats the waters
like sheets fallen from the line
there is the conk shell humming
to the gardens
to the sea
to your posts
a world seen through expectant eyes
dew clings to the moss
and it smells like earth
BlueBoy again ahhhhhhh nicey.
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