When he got to the spot where the road turned,
The berries that grew there swelled with poison,
And the sunlight grew cool on the lake-shore.
He picked up his skateboard purposefully:
Strange singing could be heard from the fence,
Or rather beyond the fence, a weird lure.
Heedless, he passed on, raced to fathers’ house,
To recall the tricks, he’d learned that morning.
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Copyright 2023 Jeffrey Merk
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