Fences are often manmade, perhaps important structures,

Often defining my life, or at least behavior.

I see the fences of today, and those of the past,

Some erected by others, some fences by myself.


Do these fences confine me, or define me …

Are they fixed in place, or are they growing or shrinking?

Some are now gone, a distant past, but others are walls, I cannot see through or over.

I like some of my fences, but I don’t like others.


A fence can be the edge of a path, or a boundary I fear to cross,

So perhaps, fences are not all bad,

I guess it depends who erected them,

And what was their purpose.


But they didn’t come from nowhere.