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My backyard

In the corner of the yard, a tall weeping willow stands,
for playing and for hiding, it's the best place in the land.
Beneath its drooping branches, there I keep my treasure trove;
all my special things are hidden, where few eyes come to rove.

A few steps more, the lilac hedge sits along the fence.
A path I've worn between the two to mount my yards defence;
The sidewalk's on the other side, vigilant I must be,
each time I sound my guard dog bark, intruders run and flee.

The berry patch is next in line, with yummy treats to eat;
in early summer every year, raspberries ripe and sweet.
The brambles prick and poke my nose and tangle in my coat,
that's not enough to keep me out, for that you'd need a moat!

Protecting birds; upon myself I take this solemn task,
to keep them safe and sound from harm at the feeder and the bath;
when naughty squirrels and cats sneak in to steal seeds and to prey;
I run and bark and jump around to chase them all away.

From the gate up to the deck there winds a gravel path
to the left and to the right, there lies the soft green grass.
Each day, these wondrous things await, for me upon the sward;
I'm the king of this domain... this is my backyard.