custard creams

Well hid under the bush at the end of the garden

Sometimes  I dream of it

A small dark space

Itchy but safe

Where the rain drips down the back of your neck

But never pours

Where custard creams can be eaten

In cahoots with nature

Looking out on the world

Knowing she will always be there

No matter how muddy my knickers are

Not even coming out to pee

A world within

a small safe place.