I love to be lost In the sound that mud makes when it is soft and wet And begs your lingering fingers To stay a little while longer And play some more in that earth...
I love to be lost
In the wetness of that mud,
When it is oozing and dripping,
And begs your exploring hands
To renounce the skillful art
And make a more marvelous mess...
I love to be lost
In the ripples that mud makes
When it is churned and overflowing
And you dig in that branch of yourself
To plant deep the seeds of love
Beneath the shutters of my hips.
