Wednesday, April 17, 2019

National Poetry Writing Month Seventeen



You spread me around with good intention
     how the shrubs stood out
     in heightened relief
     how moist the soil stayed
     under my cover

I rested against your sure foundation
     how my name appealed
     Big Red like your team
     how the weeds withered
     because of my mass

Made by my maker to be attractive
     how tasty my wood
     to termite larvae
     how easily gnawed
     your 2x4 studs

I made neat and tidy while I lasted
     how could you predict
     I was all surface
     how could you foresee
     it would all break down?

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