Across the street, it’s hard to miss,
That fixer-upper in a state of bliss,
With peeling paint and the promise of change,
Yet one stubborn strip remains, so strange.
A sliver of blue against the white facade,
Mocking my patience, making me mad.
Each day it shouts from the window’s glare,
'Look at me! I’m still here! Don’t you dare!'
Time drifts by,...
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