Running through mud puddles.
- Michael Fenton
- Aug 17, 2016
- 1 min read
Rain is free to fall Wrapped in gravity Wet and shimmering, The land accepts her gift Translucent pools offer Quicksilver reflections Of barefoot joy.
Impractical magic Is no longer ours Or so we are told; Temptations await In liquid galaxies Between our toes Simplicity and grace Once given forever held.
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