What she had been

 

I was a gate

on a path with no fences

either side,

A strange anomaly,

Anachronistic ?  perhaps a little,

A small inconvenience to some,

A bloody useless eyesore to others.


Get rid ! they cried.


Others just smiled and leaned a while,

Chatting o'er my top to friends.

I had a kind of function for them.


People think gates have no feelings, 

But between me, you and the well-chafed post -


They do. 



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