Mending Fences

Last trails of sunlight splinter the slats of the old broken down fence a reverence reflecting painstaking perseverance in less than perfect times but I remember them perfectly the excitement of colour caressing the grains seeping into the pores each coat brushed with care again and then again not knowing or caring what was in store wild passion filled nights under the moon pressed and in tune who would have thought they'd be gone way too soon storms blew in and they took their toll the fence once strong now full of holes I stand and stare and wonder so if I should mend this fence or up and go