He stares at the gate like will could change the times
And bring my ashes back to where we once began.
The rain puts him in rusty shackles of pain,
But no amount of faith can make him a good man.
He bows his head and bids his farewells each morning,
And each night he buries another dead hope.
There is no one to tell him, no one to notice
How he keeps me trapped in his velvet ropes.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 