Ganymede

sweet belts of endless rain
left for all; and those to gain
clouds like mice
and those who blink twice;
dew soaked land, and
love soaked white ladies of doom
going about (and out) in their gloom,
kiss pirates with blank faces
and wave at the sun;
time echos these places
as the rain becomes one
and the Rainbow marches on and on.

The End

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