Mend the Fences - Burn the Bridges

Mend the fences, patch each tear,
Till every post stands prim and square.
But every board I nailed into place,
Just let light through another space.

I paced the fence from end to end.
Unsure what really needed a mend.
Our bridge looked too sturdy and sound.
The fault lay hidden well below ground.

I found a gate beneath the vine.
Its rusty latch concealed a sign.
It would not yield to a gentle push.
As it lay caught up on a thorny bush.

The fence was fine as fences stood.
The sign said "Keep Out—Dead Wood!"
But anyone could climb right over it.
I needed a better way to seal the split.

The old bridge lay there to ease our way.
So simple to cross with no fuss or delay.
It's too easy, though — and that's the curse;
It made every quick quarrel get worse.
 
"Burn the bridges! Just walk away!"
Nothing can ever save the day.
I'll watch the flames leap high, with glee,
With no path left to welcome you, or me.

The fence still stood like fences do.
The bridge ashes drifted on right through.
But neither kept our lonely hearts apart—
For now, we yearned, to make up, and restart.

To mend what's broken, to bridge the gaps;
We need a link that will not collapse.
Yet first ask this- before you choose:
"What wall did you build, you can't excuse?"

We found a step-stile we'd never tried,
Half-hidden beneath our neglected pride.
The fence was never quite the foe.
It was the gate we had failed to show.

We found a drawbridge so snug and neat,
To lift for peace — and lower to greet.
The moat remained to guard, not part.
It spans our link from heart to heart.