In the yard the old fence sagged with its weight

In the yard, the old fence sagged with its weight,

peeling paint like memories, a slow, aching fate.

I saw children laughing, climbing over the wood,

a moment of freedom, where barriers stood.

The splintered old posts, weathered by time,

held secrets of summers, the rhythm, the rhyme.

Yet still in their laughter, a breath of the past,

a sense of connection that I thought wouldn’t last.

I stood for a moment, with shadows grown long,

wondering if fences might help keep us strong.

But watching them play, I felt something shift,

a lesson in presence, a bittersweet gift.