With rain comes good luck,
But it takes time to yield.
The severe shape of the rock
Takes ages
To mould.
Then there's the imagination:
Seasick, homeless and retrieving...
A watery pinch between the sky and familiar rot
It seizes, it lodges the believer.
In such desperation that no flourish of
fortune could prevail.
Good luck.
Mickster's Annual Christmas Funhouse
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