The Gate
(© photo by Loree)

 

There’s an old wooden gate,

What does it hide?

What secrets lay lurking,

On the far side?

 

The honeysuckle vines,

Cover fence hidden there,

Exude perfumed scent,

That floats on the air.

 

I enter the gate,

 It’s then that I see,

Of two on the porch,

One of them is me.

 

The other my soul mate,

Of many years,

We’ve shared much of laughter,

Dried each others tears.

 

We sit there together,

Speak of dreams we once had,

Relive all the good times,

Remember the bad.

 

It’s then that he mentions,

The old wooden gate,

He wishes he could fix it,

And make it stand straight.

 

I smile and I touch him,

Say, “Just leave it be..

For that tired old gate,

Is much like you and me.

 

Time disappeared,

And now it’s too late,

Our yesterdays gone,

 Shut outside that gate.”

 

©  2004  Loree (Mason) O’Neil

 

 

To Send This To A Friend Click The Button Below: