Sitting on a fence,
The breeze caressing,
Your gentle face,
As the grass sways innocently.
A sun is setting.
Creating purple and pink
Streaks across the misty
Cloud sky.
To go forward is white.
The unknown and
Unspeakable.
Completely Blind.
To reverse is black,
Full of memories,
Pain and joy.
A void
For the things you said.
The fence, rickety and warped.
Is the is middle of the two.
For it carries a piece of  both,
Melding white and black,
Into a color of gray.