Each Night, Each Gate
The hinges on the front are hard and firm.
by James McLain
i know because, each night i move and look.
and how, she knows it when i leave her long.
Each night i check behind each door and
cracked, it is, it's then i hear,
little 'Dear' our mummies, drunk and prone.
and because inside i sleep, I'm tossed outside again.
Some times it's cool, some times it's warm.
Because it's there, when i am and cold.
i am squeezed between the inner green each brick,
and down that long dark road, most call home.
i fear the Judge has Judged me Just, i am like you, unjust.
and i am told to move around their foggy shores.
With the coming of the moon tonight it rides,
each tide and it is strong.
I must check more often than perhaps, i think
i should and then i hear, that evil laugh.
The cotton clouds they try too hide,
and so they move aside and as one slides
across the sky tonight it shows again.
Golden honey rustic color, it's halo.
Camouflaged and patched,
last night i think it snowed.
I hear each pebble,
as it's tossed,
each heavy tap it's warm soft grasp
against the windows frosty chill.
I heard a quite little.... ohhhio,
and thinking that each Other outer ring is fine.
and Erie is it's light and then i sigh.
For forty years it's been this way and
with the wind the snow and rain.
It always comes in sheets and hard it pours.
The gate and lock will be replaced,
as soon as it grows warm again and it
is cool along those shores.