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The Open Gate ©

Frank E Gibbard
London, England

The other day I watched a neighbour's life
Decanted from the adjoining house.
Two removal men cleared her property
And in barely an hour were gone.
Just curious passers-by and I witness the procession
Of objects now unpossessed,
Wanted by no-one.
These workmen had none of the usual cheer,
Hastening unduly their unwanted task.
They hardly spoke to each other,
They moved with unnatural pace.
Major objects exited first,
A bed, a wardrobe, a fridge
Then conveyance of personal items
A life's worth reduced to a list.
And finally, a small TV this widow's sole companion
At the end.
Having seen our old friend's last leaving
of the now deserted house
This cortege seemed sadder yet
As the single vehicle left
All gone now, I mused, as grief hit home
Tears blurred my view of the left-open gate.

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