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.