There is little to be
seen outside my door
which doesn’t open. I see
a shrub, wooden fence, and four
houses ranged close, paranoid
in their huddled, gap-toothed
yards with their backs avoid-
ing contact with me. Truth
to tell, we all avoid this backyard
meeting. Privacy fences are tall
sentries against each other’s hard
gazes from kitchen blinds that fall.
We meet each other in the way
we wave politely at the end of day.
Not my best effort, but it is an English sonnet, and I wrote it in response to this dVerse prompt.
Sometimes it feels most comfortable if one keeps one’s distance from one’s neighbors. I hear you on this!
it’s sad when we live so close but avoid contact… in our old village we had very close and good contact with all the neighbors…but then..it was a village… a city is always different
oy this is the way of the world these days…its a sad state…i miss sitting ont he porch and having the whole neighborhood come round…all the kids playing in the year…its not what is now though…
We have become so paranoid. I have a neighbor who believes everyone’s out to steal something from her. It’s frustrating listening to her sometimes. Well done, your portrayal of it all.
To be able to see without noticing .. Such an important part of human life.. But if we are afraid we just raise the fences,..
Day’s end brings greetings….
One wonders if good fences really do make good neighbors?
First poem I’ve read about a view of so little or nothing…yet there is life teeming behind the fences and door and windows…great write!
It gets a bit like that these days…I think it’s sad but life seems to have changed with all the technology I suppose. Nice sonnet!