A Conversation Over The Garden Fence
A
Andrew Blakemore
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Two old men talked about the past
As they leaned upon the slatted wooden fence
That creaked under the weight of their forearms.
One side was painted white
The other painted black
And there they met to reminisce
On those days now long gone by.
There gardens weren't alike at all
For one was tended mowed and pruned
Where flowers grew and colours bloomed
With everything in place.
While the other was wild and overgrown
With weeds that clung and squeezed the life
From all that tried to grow amidst
That tangled mass of green.
One man was smart and wore a tie
The other wore an open shirt,
With many missing buttons
And its sleeves were holed and torn.
I thought they were like chalk and cheese
But as I passed I heard them say,
They both felt sorry for the young
And glad that they were old.
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