The Old Gate’s Creak: A Threshold Between Past and Present

Every cowboy knows the importance of gathering strength before the storm.

At twilight™s edge, the old gate™s creak,

Whispers tales the prairie speaks.

With rust and wood, it stands alone,

A portal where the winds have blown.

Beneath its arch, the horizon sprawls,

Where silver stars in silence calls.

A cowboy™s heart, both brave and wild,

Finds solace here, like a wayward child.

Through dust and dreams, the past rides near,

In twilight™s glow, both hope and fear.

Each swing reveals a storys weight,

A bond with time that won™t abate.

So as the sun fades into night,

The shadows dance in fading light.

With every step, the future waits,

At that old gate, where all love mates.