This & That

At The Gate

by: Janet Lavergne

I will steal a glance

across the waves

and meet you at the gate

standing before the house,

warming you in the night,

 keeping you from the rain.

Grant me the chance 

to find you there at the gate

with the smile I remember

and the eyes that sparkled blue

and the sweet, soft voice

I often hear in the breeze.

To reach for a place

across the waves

would be too distant

for one less caring

and I might say

 the journey is too much

if I were not me.

I am called a dream

and do admit to a mind

that often wanders

beyond reality

and reaches the bay.

I see me there with you

at the gate.

Together at last under the start

seeming to blush with shame

at the brilliance of your eyes

and we share a kiss.

I am the dreamer they accuse

and wait to be cast away.

Still my vision exists

of the distant shores of Scotland

where you watch from the window

and steal a glance toward the gate

where soon we will meet.

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Write quickly and you will never write well; write well, and you will soon write quickly. - Marcus Fabius Quintilianus, circa 65 A.D.

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