Cloak of mire.

Poem little sparrows splashing in the mud

The sun in the palm
of a hand
power
The moon in the palm
of the other
beauty
A cloak of mire
adorns the child

Oh! All that is
ever coveted
right beneath
the muck
a hands breath away
all that needs do
is
dive
underground
believing death
is
the foe

. . .





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