After this bitter row,
Things are worth fixing now,
The rosebush propping up,
The shutter bolting down.
Time that I learned to know
All that I had let go,
The gutter's steady drip,
I might need them again.
Assuming you will stand by,
The wood can be piled high;
We needn't count on hap.
I'll be bringing the chilled plants in
To spend this bitter night.
Things still could come out right.
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