Sitting in the rain on the other side of the green wall made of leaves
I watched a bobbing black dome on the other side
That appeared to be a black umbrella
It moved along like it was swept up by a current
And it was floating away from me
I watched it go and wondered who was under the umbrella
So I rushed to the other side of the wall dividing us
To meet the man who walked with the umbrella in the rain
And when I arrived to look around the corner
There was nothing, save a footprint in the mud
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