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The Gate

Ancient graying wood of
Canted posts
Swaying yellow grasses
Dance across
Rusty flaking barbed wire
Containing no more
Than a fading image
Of flicking horse tails
And stomping hooves
Still dutifully clasped 
Connecting the rotting rails
A single coil of braided metal
Holds fast to the
Which now swings only shadows
Across a dying field

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

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Date: 10/6/2013 10:20:00 AM
Kelly... Congratulations on having your poem Featured on the soup's home page. Always & Forever *LINDA*
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Date: 9/30/2013 12:01:00 PM
Really like this one that is sharing page two of featured poems with me..Sara
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