The GateA Poem by Anna GarciaIs the locked gate for your protection or mine?
Wrought iron, thick, black, and imposing.
Spiked finials add protection and style. Classic and stately, a true work of art. Standing tall, impressive and intimidating. The cold, dangerous world outside. A beautiful garden hidden safely within. The gate is closed; shutting me out. No key card, no passcode, no entry. I desperately want to be let inside. To walk freely through the grounds. © 2018 Anna Garcia |
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Added on February 7, 2018 Last Updated on February 7, 2018 |