Gates- a poem

The sunset on the tree trunk glows as if offering a hug.

IT’S not the things we buy that count,

But memories we make.

It’s not the destination, but

The paths we choose to take.

OUR path will offer, many times,

The chances to create

A moment and a memory

To carry through the gate.

THE gates of life as we stroll on,

Into the morning dew.

And when the time has come to leave,

The gates of Heaven, too.

Retm