Fence

Along the garden’s quiet edge,
A humble fence in weathered wood,
It marks the line where petals pledge
Their colours to the neighbourhood.

It watches children’s laughing feet,
Stops wandering dogs with patient grace,
Keeps wandering thoughts from wandering street,
And holds the dawn in quiet lace.

When winter winds begin to sigh,
And frost lays lace on every rail,
The fence stands firm, a stoic sigh,
A silent sentinel without fail.

So raise a toast to simple things—
The fence that borders, guards, and sings
Of home, of hearth, of steady bounds,
Where earth and sky in peace are found.