The Gate Of The Year…
(Inspired by an amateur Warwickshire artist’s new painting…)
It had once been a special place for them to meet,
At the gate beneath the small, vibrant tree, leading
Into the field of mud, stretching away into the distance.
It was a secret venue for each New Year’s morning
And a chance to hold hands in their lovers’ retreat…
It had now been a ritual for her for three long years,
Quite alone at the gate, beneath the wintering tree,
Staring across the dun field of murk and mire.
A vigil, a sanctuary for prayer and to reminisce
About the days when joy was the cause of her tears…
It had been a memory for him to treasure and cherish,
Entrenched in warfare at the treeless Front, flailing
In fields of mud, aching with love and commensurate fear.
He writes, he hopes, he despairs, he longs for home,
Despite the angst that his dreams along with his life will soon perish…
Pete Ray…
16th January 2026…
The Gate of the Year took my mind to World War 1 and a couple who met at the gate each New Year’s morning until the fellow went off to war.
His girlfriend continued the ritual, whilst as the conflict dragged on, he dreamt of it…
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