Picture Perfect Town
We’ve long admired the masterpiece dwellings
Contained by the picture perfect town,
And at last inquired what they were selling
But there was not a soul to be found.
We parked in front of a fine art store
That displayed a wondrous collection,
And noticed the freshly painted door
Though its panes shone without reflection.
We saw Rockwell patrons standing inside
That removed each of our apprehensions,
But then I couldn’t push the door aside
Because it was drawn in one dimension.
I grabbed my wife as she was fainting,
And then reflected as she calmed down.
Why are we always fooled by a painting
Of every picture perfect town?
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2014
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