We fought the vines, and it was fun,
We used the scissors like a gun,
We cut the grass, we freed the trees,
We worked all day like busy bees.

We freed our lilac from the vines,
We cut the weeds so many times,
Though joy with pain in palms combines,
I write with pride these happy lines.

By cutting weeds, I fought my sloth,
Which was around me like moths,
By pulling vines, I pulled my vice,
Which gnawed at me like hungry mice

I celebrate not once, but twice!

April 2012 Staten Island

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