Sometimes your voice is cheerful and sometimes sad.
Sometimes you play slowly, sometimes fast.
When the outside world stimulates you, you are as deserted as you have spent a hundred years.
When you’re all alone, you tell your neighbors the worst.
In winter, even though you are bald, you still watch over our backyard.
In spring, even if a dandelion came to ask you out, you never wavered in your faith.
In summer, even if the cicadas kept chirping, you did not choose to cry, nor did you leave your position.
In autumn, even if the ground is covered with maple leaves, you still love your little home.
You look like a puppet, but not stupid.
Your body is like a bucket, but extremely strong.
I look at you quietly, as if you guard us every day.
When I waved to you, it was as if you walked into our world tenaciously.
FENCE
