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Prose today: The picket fence

The picket fence



The day was carried in the white bucket when you painted any other fence or wall that was put up

a long time ago always making something look good look better look new the sky fit round like

a blue bonnet the sun tucked in there smiling fair hair overflowing the day was spilled if you call

them white lies white washing white fingernails chipping morning down to pink any other fence

wouldn't be stained for life instead the day had a brush of wind when you keep something in

life gave that pretty girl a wish for red down to the bone



s.m.g.

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