Orange Gate Poem by Marilyn Lott

I remember many years ago
Way back when I was a child
Grandpa’s barnyard was a place
Where life was so sweet, so mild

It was a place I could be myself
I didn’t ever have to pretend
To feel something I didn’t feel
It was a world of a country blend

I could sit upon a hay bale
A piece of straw between my lips
Just me and the cows and God
Forgetting life with its turns and dips

The windmill with it’s whiring sound
It was the old style, rough and crude
But I loved the look and sound of it
And the ground on which it stood

Ah yes, I’d go back in just a minute
There would truly be no debate
The only thing that has changed today
Is a brand new shiny orange gate!