More Than a Fence


There’s a neighbor of mine,

  that I see time to time,

friendly,  but strange

  and peculiar.


A Pulizter Prize winner,

  for writing some poetry.

Which poems   that he wrote,

  I don’t know.


He comes out in rich robes

  and fancy house-shoes,

only to pick up

  his papers.


And he just might speak,

  he might “hello,”

or maybe,

  I might  just keep walking.


Now, his house  is quite nice:

  a circular drive-way;

Ornamental Colonial



And he is retired,

  a famous university.

A State pension

  from professorship, too.


His poetry’s nice

  (I’ve read one or two.)

and he writes of his world,

  from his own point of view.

(And that is, as said,

  a little strange too.)


But, he was professor,

  and Pulitzer Prize winner.

So I guess he’s a right

  to his view.


He’ll pick up his papers

  and go in to read,

and I’ll walk on

  with my dog, in lead.


‘Cause that’s what

  Pulitzer Prize winners,


and their neighbors,

  with their dogs –

them too.






©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

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