What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbours."
- Mending Wall, Robert Frost
Something there is that loves a wall to heart,
That finds solace hiding in its shadow—
A sentinel that whispers lullaby in the night
And kisses the heart when it flutters.
I live in darkness, an asylum where my back rests,
When the light outside is too bright
And my pride too bruised to fight.
On the flip-side the cold air burns;
There lies a mystery I dare not learn.
Now and again I try to gamble,
One step, over and beyond, I soon stumble,
And I hide behind my father's saying
"Good fences make good neighbours."
My wrinkled face forms into a smile—
Still I'm kept safe, kept a secret.
