The Rusty Weatherd Gate…
Down a quiet, peaceful, country road
On April’s early side of Spring..
I saw a sign of yesterday
( it was the strangest thing)
high upon a hill, quiet and still
Stood a weathered rusted find..
with steps hiding benieth the grass
that spoke of another time..
once a house now gone had seen
loved ones open up that gate to Home….
a welcome sight to family
Still standing all alone…
it made me smile, if just awhile
As it boldly seemed to say
“they may have gone but i linger on
Open me once more today”
~ by connetta on April 6, 2008.
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Tags: connetta, gate, old, old things, poetry, the gate, words, writing