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.