Useless Old Fence Post in The Front Yard We Haven’t Fixed

In a lineup of all your favorite players

I’d be the last face you’d choose.

No one picks the water boy to play,

knowing that they’ll lose.

Down your favorite candy aisle

I’m not the chocolate, gummies or caramels;

I’m that sugar-free glob your grandma packs

in her bottom purse, dusted in sunflower shells.

On Christmas Eve, I’m not the hottest toy,

or newest game to play.

I’m the socks, the ugly sweater, or your old aunt’s weird crochet.

I’m not the girl you want to sit with.

I’m the girl that knows that girl, and hey,

you can’t wait to be around her presence,

so you invite me anyway.

Like that link in the fence that connects

all the parts in the pattern that matters together;

I’m just the undeniable bridge between what you love,

and what you just have to weather.