White Fence

While running my fingers along the weathered pickets of a domestic boundary, 

a rush of tingling emotion surges to my chest, 

circulating up to my throat, blocked in a lump sum, 

as if it were a physical form trying to escape.

The creeping stems of unraveled morning glories
frame this well-written home.
Caught, far from present, in a love frozen stare, 

I finally come to in a rolling dense fog.

A chilling sense of feeling woolen, monochrome, uneasy. 

My body begins to ache with inactivity. 

Will this fear be cut? 

Soon right away, right away.