White Picket Fences
Behind the posts and fancy lines,
a poetess is blue.
Her picket fence is yellowing
and hanging all askew.
~ ~ ~
Inside her barbed and wired heart,
cruel words have shut her in.
It's perfect on the outside,
but sorely hurts within.
~ ~ ~
The gate through picket fences
swings open but can close
to either bring her happiness
or keep her filled with woes.
~ ~ ~
The fence - secured - so long ago
has all but fallen down.
She tries to keep it stabilized
in spite of shaky ground.
~ ~ ~
The barricades will crumble yet
from dead and useless weight
and words can either shelter her
or impale her at the gate.
~ ~ ~
She walks away on cobbled stones
cracking beneath her feet.
Let's hope she can remember
that life's a two-way street.
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