Temporary Post

Overturned, in the empty lot.

Not blocking anything, not guarding.

Just there, a bright orange sentinel,

against a broken fence.

The plastic, faded on one side,

holding up a tangle of green,

thorny vines that had no other place to climb.

It leaned, a quiet, accidental support.

Not a warning anymore.

Just a prop for growth,

a temporary post,

until someone remembers it, or doesn't.