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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=397065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Framed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=397065" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The lots are a collusion of lawn tools<br>Rakes bark at sidewalks <br>Mowers ruminate, roaring in fescue<br>Pink flamingo statuary and black jockeys<br>Vie for spritz from rain birds<br>The straw hat ladies sit on wicker benches<br>In a garden of sculpted shrubbery<br>They sip tea from painted dragon china cups<br>glinting in the summer morning sun<br>Moving in arcs from laced limbs<br>The gentry and their servants <br>The fingers and the cup<br>Possessing themselves for eternity<br>“I’m thinking of a tuck” <br>“ I don’t think a tuck will do you”<br>“ My God your catty”<br>laughter erupts from calamity<br>from an assembly of uncommon alliance<br>“ I think body replacement would be more like it”<br>silence warps from light hearted bantering<br>the pulsing jets of rainbirds <br>the tinkling of spoons and saucers<br>“ Your roses are beautiful, just dreamy”<br>“ I could sit here forever “</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=George+Murdock">George Murdock</a></strong></div>