Category: Writers Block
At the Gate
My love, she meets me at the gate
Each morning when I leave my home.
She takes my hand and bids me wait
Before I seek a road to roam.
I'd walk with her would she but lead.
I'd speak to her if I could tell
Where logic, love and hope agreed,
But sunrise always means farewell.
The day is long and deep and still;
The world is vast. Across its face
I amble, lonely, with the chill
That comes from drifting place to place.
If only she could hear my mind.
Perhaps she might then understand
And walk with me, till we might find
A place to shelter hand in hand.
Alas! Her path and mine don't cross
Save dawn and dreams and fleeting chance,
And thus, the day is no great loss...
Forsook without a backward glance.
I let myself in at the gate,
And pass along my country lane,
To seek the peace of my estate
Before the night comes down again.
My front door opens into dark.
I enter, watch the shadows creep,
Then close my eyes and strike her spark
To take to bed, to guard my sleep.
The ghosts arise, though, voices soft.
Nothing to be done or said
Till, bored of sport, they fly aloft
And leave their pantomime for dead.
And so, each morning, full of fear
I face the world without a friend
To comfort me, for though she's here,
Her knowledge only spells the end.
I bargain, but to no avail.
The day will honour no one's plea.
So on I wander, meek and frail
Till fate and time grow bored of me.
My love, she meets me at the gate...
Awww! Sad! I like it, though. And you even made it rhyme. I can't do that. Lol.
i like it:)