OLD MAN'S GATE
Flowers grow a bit wild now.
He's killed the hog and sold the sow
Winter winds, they don't abate,
They just blow by the old man's gate.
Life got bad a year a go -
Lost his wife in a winter snow.
Never recovered from love's cruel blow.
She's buried by the old man's gate.
Spring may come again they say;
Flowers bloom another day.
All we can do is hope and pray
For fairer breezes through the old man's gate.
Michelle Balletto-Wooten
© 7-5-11
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