Extra-societal throngs
Perambulate through my old home.
Oh little yellow cottage!
I adore you!
With your evanescent doors,
your windows that only speak open,
your encapsulating buttercup bloom walls.
You were designed for me.
If I pluck a strand of hair
and leave it in a corner,
will you remember me?
I have loved you since you sprung up from the ground.
Turn away anyone who loves you less than us.
At the back of the throng a face perks up,
falls in love with your nurturing.
Sold.
Miniature Moon 