Suburban Perfection
While gold-laced suburban skies shine, it is wasted on the child.
As he pouts behind a picket fence, vanilla ice cream melts.
Watching the manicured lawns grow, I long to loosen the green.
Written 5/25/20 for Jenish Somadas’
Let the Pens Flow Sijo Contest
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2020
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