December 14, 2010
There aren’t pearly gates,
Just one large shiny metal fence,
Padlocked and guarded
With a “No Trespassing” sign.
Rivers run deep with icy sweet tea,
Streets aren’t paved at all.
The gold is saved for
Sunsets and fishing hooks.
Trails through the woods
Lead to endless grassy pastures
Where mashed potato clouds
Drip gravy, and buttered biscuits
Fall like manna from the sky.
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jacsprat 