Beneath the Magnolia

Hidden beneath the Magnolia I hammer upon the page. I pray for the Primordial ooze to drip down upon me from the black snake. Her waves vibrate the branch above me. The serpent was there in the original garden. So close to the creative. She only feels what flows upon the page. The passion that you cast from within. Feel your words hidden under the Magnolia. Anything more and they will slither away.