At bay.
I am here all the time.
On all fours.
 The scuffle and tug
To get to me first,
At times, they take over me
Without any notice or relief.
At times, they shun at me
When they detest
The boulevard I reside on.
Any excuse will do to hide out
From me as to those who answer for me.
Do they know me?
Do they care when they screech on me
And scrape off my colour?
I am stable and reliable.
For as long as I am fore-given.
The caretaker can’t know me
For there is no notice of him.
The crossing bridge of affection blossoms
On the springs of replenish.
Our dates are scheduled on white skins of tar.
Do they know me?
As torrents of rains pour
And scorches of rays spike
Their changing faces will appear
As with each new day.
Here I will be,
Here I remain.
Is this fixation my consistent future?
Who am I?
June 11, 2011.

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