Beyond my backyard fence
is a field of promises and shadows
mixed in the grace of youths uncombed
hair and sweat lined faces.
My lips lasso images, bringing voices
to life while the aroma of morning
rescues my thoughts.
Far is nearer to me, framed in sections,
held without prejudice in the smiles
of nicknames.
This is my inheritance, a legacy of time
carefully packaged at the back fence.
Roger Singer 