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.
Comments
Post a Comment