Christina A. Sharik
CAST IRON GATES
Cast Iron Gates
Open one –
Someone waits…
Behind another,
rusted closed,
a brother.
In greening Spring
a wooden swing
where robins sing.
An icy puddle,
a frosty field
sad sheep huddle
Cast Iron Gates, I find
aren’t my favorites…
I like the picket kind…
But anywhere
a loved one waits
on porch or stair
There’s no debate
I’ll gladly take
the Iron Gate.
©Copyright September 9, 2009 by Christina A. Sharik