Dude Poetry: The Rusty Shed

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There it sits out back like an immobile egret
On a slab of concrete flanked by wooden planks
I haven't been back there in years, but it seems yet,
That I already know exactly what's inside there

Antiquated lawn equipment and smelly gasoline
An oil can, some work gloves, a stool
It's all there and unadulterated
Every implement, and every tool

The exoskeleton is weathered
A strong wind may someday take it down
Its sides rusty and red
The roof barely hanging on
Perhaps some words should be said
Before nature razes this rusty shed
And end its fading era, and we move on

I named it nothing
About 40 years ago

When it wasn't always rusty
This ole rusty shed
And always there for you

Great for storage
Primed aesthetic
Its eventual fall may be fault all my own
How I wished I never missed maintenance

We lost what I neglected to name in a freak hail storm
Flaking layers jettisoned to the swirling stratosphere
40 years
That's a good run for a shed
I think

And 40 years
That's a long time to know a shed
A long time to know anyone.