The rain has stopped, yet the ground stays wet here,
No longer able to absorb the storm,
The collection of it sits there, heavy and thick as mud,
In time, the ground begins to rot and decay,
An infestation roots deep in the flesh,
even worms will dare to dwell through this blight.

Snails and slugs shall follow,
Willing, they know they belong here,
They cherish this place of mold,
They sweat and break their sanity to hold it high,
They protect this place of mildew,
They know one day the sun shall show its golden face,
She will flash her redeeming eyes on this rotten place
Digging her muddy hands through the soil,
They shall step away and watch with joy as new flowers bloom.