THE WHITE PICKET FENCE

 

 

coiour-my-world:

Autumn Fence, Woodstock, Vermont

A walk down a country road,

not knowing what it may hold.

Leaves crunch loudly beneath my feet,

walking fast is no easy feat.

I need to get home to make dinner,

I’d hoped the walk would make me thinner.

But I need to slow down and breath the air,

as sweet as cotton candy at a fair.

My steps follow the white picket fence,

the other side makes me cold and tense.

The huge dog jumps high in the air,

his eyes white dots on his black hair.

He whimpers and walks closer to me,

his dark eyes as wide as can be.

He lifts a large paw to the gate,

as I slow down my frenzied gait.

I stop in place to pet his head,

I know I have just made my bed.

I will now be home late for dinner,

but the dog knows I’m still the winner.

I have stopped to smell the flowers,

I’m refreshed with superpowers.

I race home with new resolve,

no more time puzzles to solve.