The Gate – a poem by me

Locked secure and a century has passed,

The barring of the old rusty gate seems to last;

But beyond the locks, chains and bolts,

Is it just the unkempt grass fields and the metal fence of mould?

Or is there something hiding there, something obscure and unseen?

A thing or two that’d make anybody walk past the gate quite keen;

For I’ve heard from the Old Keeper, it’s a place where majesty is omnipresent,

And it’s true, he goes there everyday to read in a place so pleasant!

Amongst the growing ivy, do doves swoop and swish? Amongst the stretching seaweed, do there swim fish?

Do foxes and badgers quarrel in the heath?

Whilst insects feast upon various things in the ground beneath?

Today I went to explore the depths of the forest, to find out more,

After I’d finished all my chores,

So with my pleated scarf and warm winter coat, I set off on an adventure,

Without a bike, without a car, without a boat.

And soon, stretching high to the top of the gate, I climbed over and began to berate:

“My legs are aching of pain,

but I must hurry for soon it’ll rain,

and oh, my arms are sore of stretching,

I wish I’d stayed home and completed my sketching.”

But knowing that my solitude meant no-one to listen,

I walked on instead and watched the sun glisten.

Beyond the barren land, a beautiful forests stands!

Amongst the growing ivy, doves swoop and swish,

Amongst the stretching seaweed, there are swimming fish!

Under thick layers of thicket and shrubbery, badgers and foxes are quarrelsome and bubbly!

And after a dig, indeed, you’d find,

Insects, so many, and of varying kinds!