A Lonely Gate
There stood on the vast windswept plains
Torn down by beast and storm and rains
Fences of branches long since gone
Once a symbol of acres drawn.
To contain sheep and grazing steers
Put up by sweat and blood and tears
And with a gate, moved them about
Now all are gone after the drought.
Only the gate still stands alone
As the wind blows, you hear it moan
Silhouetted in the night sky
Still holding on, it knows not why.
Tho it may think its purpose done
It still stands to inspire someone.
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