this side wrought with thorns
the other side is sunny
this side thunderstorms
the other side has mountains
this side flat and brown
the other side grows lushly
this side is beaten down
the other side may have
these things
this side not so much
the grass is always greener
on what you cannot touch
I may look there longingly
and think it may be smooth
but I will stay on my side
working to improve it
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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