Chris KoesterThe Gate Beyond<br>
<br>
A rusted gate, a path once known,<br>
Through ivy deep and roots o’ergrown.<br>
The air is still, the bramble high,<br>
And echoes sleep where footfalls die.<br>
<br>
Yet up the steps and through the green,<br>
The light breaks soft on what has been.<br>
And though the trail is old and bare,<br>
It waits for someone still to care.<br>
<br>
<br>
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