There is a place I like to go, just outside the fence

The flowers grow like grain; they bring me such a sense

Magic comes to me as I stand within that ground

Yet when I turn to leave

No more magic can be found

I would visit every year, but now it’s every day

I am whole when I am there, and sad when I’m away

But a question worries me, that hasn’t fully risen

 Is this a place of fortune?

Or is it

My own prison?

Its roots hold on to me; my hands hold on to it

A curse though it may be, it seems the perfect fit

This land has cast a spell, with all that it presents

I need this place so much

No matter the expense

I have no answers yet, so here I shall remain

These plants surround my heart, so too I grow like grain

And though it seems unsafe

Some things are worth suspense

This field might be my end

But love has foolish sense

For love has pulled me in

Just outside the fence

  'Just Outside the Fence' - c.2009 - Tim Cantor