At least three Elephants, two Dogs and a lonely Dragon.
At Home I hold the foot of at least one.
Clara sings her sickly sweet songs helping the rain cling to their fur.
Plethora of reading material, words you cannot care for.
Candelabra in mockery of a champagne flute, one silent instrument.
Vegetation alongside the slender forms of multi-coloured women span the house hold.
Caged letter box and the popery, a little book of scribbles and scrawls, some kind of genius but just as unsure.
Atlas never held this much weight, orion hangs in the sky forced as any to remain.
Clouds try their best to obscure the night light flooding in
Flooding the land as they rain down upon it.
Glass houses never break, this one is built of bricks
and sand
and wood
and things.
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