Sanctuary

She forged me a canyon out of poor man's clay . Ducks torpedoed through swimming pools , that place where the verdant lush gardens canopy away in a little locked place     Refuge from a place millimeters away , yet awe kept me coming back    Murky or sweet tooth desired , water is a spirit of beauty.

" Sometimes     Usually always , a stoned poet loves to play with words , after all words are blocks to a poems road."