Behind the Fence

Between morning and afternoon, Are the young evergreens, Arrayed in perfection, by delicate hands; Behind this cultured fence, I saw her, sipping coffee; And, her eyes well-tinged with eagerness, We spoke through our morn smiles In a world where lovers once talked, Great lovers with promises Of “I do…and till death do us part!” Etched in their hearts; yet, for us These words are forgotten, for awhile; Again, I tickled her, with a fleeting glance But, before she could send me Her butterfly kiss, Her lover came out from nowhere, Asking her…d’you like your coffee, dear? Hastily, she said, with guilt In her voice: “oh yes, honey.” Whilst I… I pretended reading the morning news.