Nothing but fictional logos.
A place to put things…
when there is nothing but 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.
All in tow…lulled to the 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.