the lawn is green
after the white winter scream
of what seems to be endless days
such cold and angry blasts
of snow, dust and hate
there are four trees
magnificient, towering and proud
yet lifeless, leafless, and old
of what seemed to be promises left
strongly withheld like the trees
is left withered and undone
there is a white picket fence about three feet tall
that separates the snow from the lawn
the before from the now
and a flagstone walk leading to the white door
opening away from the snow of yesterday
towards the spring of tomorrow
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