Day after day she walks through these stone walls.
Her portal to the past,
her home forever,
as the cold stone has gone green and mildewed from the hundred years past,
she has watched the changes,
met the others and found her place.
She knows these gates by heart,
the smooth feel of the metal against her hands
and the memory of the first night she had come.
The moon was hanging so high above in its penumbral state
watching her like a silent eye above,
mocking in its glistening way
as she moved through the mist
knowing she would return
time and time again.
For she was a piece of this puzzle,
as she realized this, iciness of doom sent a shiver through to her soul
and as she saw the hole standing and waiting before her
she knew there was no turning back.
In the coming of the day the sun peers through,
shadows cast long by the bars of the gate
leaving a prison sense to the headstone in view,
the words worn smooth by her ghostly hands that caress it,
her name barely discernible to those who wonder as they walk by,
who was this young girl,
for only numbers of years remain
gone too soon they shake their heads,
walking away on their passage to the next stop.
She watches regardless,
content in knowing she will not be seen
for she is now the keeper of the gate
for her eternity.
Join in the fun and stop in to see Sue (see link below) for the directions and run with it from there. This is my submission this week.