roses
lined the fence,
the grass was perfect.
the trees trimmed,
there was order and
civility about it.
a small fountain in
the middle, made of stone
arced water into the air.
every weekend
he was out there doing
what he had to do to
keep it up, to weed,
to cut, to mow, to mend
the fence that border friends.
a flag waved from the porch,
and then things changed.
he got old, he lost interest.
the marriage failed
and the kids went off to
lives of their own. yards
of their own.
it had to end.
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