Painting the back fence

in words that should last

beyond this day, since

years, do just rush past

These fence words I’ve picked

will stay here until

time has been licked and

the need to stand still

Then I and the fence

will come to know

 the wind’s blowing, hence

over will we go

By then, it won’t mean

 a thing, if that side

is greener than green

when the fence collides

with the earth, and I

am lifted so high

swirled around in mirth

amid true blue skies

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