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The Old Times Gate........

Garden roses nestled and entwined their sinewy branches around the wrought-iron carcass of the Old Times Gate.

Memories pressed within each link and leaf to never be forgotten yet leaving a mark of dis-use but also a finality often
remembered by those who walked through to pass on their way to where-ever.

A rush of children's footsteps often echoing beyond the clang of their insistent urgency that life always seemed far too short..

Tears of joy as we carried a new life to enter a phase of such determination and wonderment yet strangled by the uncertainty
that all we discover and behold is not always as it seems..

Screams of fear when death comes to visit and attempts to break the very soul of what we believe and know to be absolute..

Tender fingers of tiny hands that become the gnarled clasps of aged and withered hands that push slow the Gate of Time but gets
us nowhere.

Happier moments that bruise the knowledge that although we are human we acknowledge that our emotions will be our downfall.

Illness that leaves us aghast and bereft, filling us with the confusion as to why this must be, an end to a beginning that gets lost
in the center of what we call Life.

The music of Laughter and clapping of hands that shake our friends and seal our fate to believe that all is good.

Condonement of passed wrongs and the commencement to revive our spiritual rightness to enter a higher plain of forgiveness.

Mental anguish as the Gate slams shut on our insanity and places us in a realm of never-seen-before clarity yet strangles our voice to
speak out loud.

Only this Gate alone can hold the fate of so many souls in times of vulnerability and give us a belief that we can survive

As sunshine gives warmth so will the snow be cold and as each day passes we go from young to old and yet the moments that press within our
hearts are eternal and will slip from one soul to another as a memory and not be forgotten..

As my hand touches the Old Times Gate to pass one last time I leave my imprint for others to follow and make their own or simply
add a page or two but never-the-less fill with who they are to become.

The Garden roses caress Old Times Gate never wilting but always so full of possibility and the lucidity that tomorrow will come.....