The Fence

there is no fence between the yards
and the weeds cross
long shaggy grass and dandelions.
both sides share a single beauty
i sit in one yard and dream of being in the other
it has to be more perfect
mostly because it is not here;
it has to be more wonderful
because i am not there;
the grass is just as green
and needs just as sorely to be cut
but i cant help the feeling left out
because i am not lying on its lawn.
soon i hate that yard
and spurn its comfort
because it was never mine.
i grow to despise the greenness of it
and so i till my plot black.
i build a fence, a terrible and high fence.
then i lean on it feeling safe
and right.
but soon enough
i am dreaming of the yards with no fence,
the ease and comfort.
and so i tear down bits of the wall
but find the neighbors
rebuilding it behind.
now the grass is greener on the other side
but only because i killed mine.

2 Responses to The Fence

  1. Kara Douglas says:

    we all build fences around ourselves, dont we?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: