The Black Iron Gate

In this quite garden alone I do sit                                                                           Hoping friends will drop by for a visit                                                                               Warmth from the sun, softness of breeze                                                                          The squeak of my gate would surely please

Seedlings floating by brushing my cheek                                                                           A near perfect day but for one thing I seek                                                                       Wanting to hear a squeak from my iron gate                                                                      Hearing someone say, I'm so sorry we're late

I try very hard to keep a smile on my face                                                                            In my minds eye I can go almost any place                                                                     Climbing mountains, wading through brooks                                                                           My adventures come from reading many books

Day nearing it's end, nothing more I can say                                                                            The black iron gate didn't squeak open today                                                                            Tomorrow the sun is definitely going to shine                                                                       Going out when it's nice folks are more inclined

Author Eileen Clark 2011

From the author, this poem is not about me.

Image fineartamerica.com