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First World Problems
© Rachel Green August 2025
Standing in the garden 'ere my bed
while both the dogs partake of final wee,
in summer heat, when all my words are said,
between the sycamore and ash, the stars can see,
such peace I have; contentment I have seized
contending with my desire of the seas
but lo! the soughing of the temp'rate breeze
recalls the sound of surf within the trees.
The silence of the night is broken by the scream
of nearby motorcycles roaring past
as if the posted limits for road speed
were merely provocation to go fast.
With garden lit by solar-powered light
return indoors to tell my love: Goodnight.
© Rachel Green August 2025
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