Poetry

Colin Matts


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4 january 2012

The Gate

The Gate
 
As the gate closed by her hand for the very last time
The hour glass stopped, sand frozen in time
Cold sets in, blood turned to ice
No longer able to hear her sweet soft voice
 
That day was one with thousands more
No heart for love, just a male whore
Relationships, marriage all travelled well through
No turning back you do what you do
 
There are joys and parenting too
Birth of a child not one not two
Touch of their skin, warmth of their smile
Makes every last minute seem so worth while
 
Years go on and age creeps in, Los of elastic in the skin
You play, they learn, they imitate. You cushion the mistakes they have yet to make
Knowledge and wisdom in pain in life
For our children we always have to strive
 
But hidden in life’s tangled web, the hour glass frozen, never to be said
You where a boy, a fledgling man, tangled and twisted like only teenagers can
Now you are old with a teenage heart, years of experience just for a start
Years go on and time goes by, dreams of a glint in someone’s eye
 
She made laugh, She made me cry, she was the girl with the twinkle in her eye
She done so well truth be told, head held high and truly bold
I dreamt, we met, it felt so good, finally the dark veil, gone for good
I give thanks for all she is, I give thanks because she is






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