on one side of the fence, she walks across broken down stalks, fallen leaves
and the bare dirt of winter.
on the other, a field, brilliant green with the promise of spring,
new growth, beauty bursting forth from the drizzle of overcast days.
we are two sides of the same coin,
I see her eyes were the same color as mine, faded into squints
our histories overlap in ways I don't think she understands
I see this from the other side of the fence.
there is a majestic tree between us, its branches straddling
our two lives, we communicate through hidden roots.
my boots are wet from the raindrops on the green grasses
hers from the upwelling water from muck and mud
a similar result, a completely different path, I chose
to walk in another field but I see across the fence to
what could have been.