Nothing but fictional logos.
A place to put things…
when there is no comfort between you and me.
Storage sheds made of un-evolved wood.
Denizens that have come and gone.
Potted, elemental, melting pots…wary of humans on the sly.
Mixed with pedigree
breeds of shelter goods.
To awakened to question why.
As I watch,
my venerable hound,
purposely toil her way up the passage,
decidedly being syrup slow.
The thoroughfare is muted.
Not a cloud dresses the sky.
Not a gesture of intolerance crosses her mind.