Contraband Poem by Mark Heathcote

Build your holdings on a fertile pasture
choose your land carefully upon which to stand
and float above barbwires that last disaster
with ease making every happiness contraband.

And with each renewed morning, be thankful.
When a songbird's song is carried-on-the wind
and at dusk, soak in a bathtub, wistful
your love's hair is gold corn with a red tint.

To build good foundations, a solid house
it'll be a blessing even when you've had a spat
to decide love isn't enough, you've got to be wise
else your home, your house will fall flat.