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Standing in the corner

out by the barn.

Stands a simple fence

as old as the farm.

The wire is rusted

the metal all twisted.

From years of abuse

and tries to fix it.

The planks are cracked

faded, and undone.

From the years

fightin’ the sun.

There is a piece

missing from a board.

Caused by a mustang

to wild to board.

The posts are old

and stand somewhat askew.

They still hold up

they still hold true.

For looks don’t matter

when time mounts.

But how you stand

that truly counts.