Tuesday, August 4, 2009

the grass gets greener

The attractive woman with the deep voice on the tv
says heavy rain is coming.

I hear it splishing and splashing.
All I can think of is my washing.

It remains on the line
like a forgotten telephone banking customer.

Waiting to be seen to
getting thread-bare, washed out and ever mustier.

And the bike I never ride
remains outside, getting rustier

But the grass gets greener
and friends sit closer
appreciating the warmth inside
as outside gets frostier.
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