Cemented to the spot I observed the opening act on stage.

Deadened legs took on insensibility whilst mud paralysed
with numbness.

Intending to make them meet consciousness once more, I tried to move.

But mud wasn't having it, No she held tight, she held fast!

I pulled, I strained but to no avail, mud held fast!

I tugged, I wrenched, I heaved, I hoed, I twisted, I turned…
I performed this strange, peculiar dance.

But mud wasn't having it, No she held tight, she held fast!

A poem by Gaynor Lewis - Illustrated by Julie Vermeille

The band finished, applause hit the skies, the next band found its place.
I didn't want to miss them.

So harder, much harder, I tugged, I wrenched, I heaved, I hoed, I twisted, I turned…
And then suddenly…..

Plop!

As I turned my back, I broke free of the darkened goo.

Great!

I put my foot down.

Squelch!