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.
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