Mending Fences
Last trails of sunlight splinter
the slats
of the old broken down fence
a reverence reflecting
painstaking perseverance
in less than perfect times
but I remember them perfectly
the excitement of colour
caressing the grains
seeping into the pores
each coat brushed with care
again and then again
not knowing or caring what was in store
wild passion filled nights
under the moon
pressed and in tune
who would have thought
they'd be gone way too soon
storms blew in
and they took their toll
the fence once strong
now full of holes
I stand and stare and wonder so
if I should mend this fence
or up and go
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