The grass is greener on the other side,
Though trampled well by active strides.
The well grows thin from frequent gulps,
But well-kept green breeds slow lulls.
I wish to lay on grass so green;
Give me your thoughts, my ear leans.
The fence forebodes the foreign sight:
My life an even, fitting height.
Our niches never intertwined;
Ropes taut, I toe the line
But I will never cross the fault.
The barrier leaps, my reach small.
Exchange our feelings, keep our goods.
Yours is yours, from wood to wood.
The grass be mine, where water’s full;
I’ll save my rights, take back your pull.
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