The Rusted Gate Hinge: A Marker of Time and Transition

The Old West didn’t reward hesitation—it honored those who acted with purpose.

Atop the hill where cowboys roam,

A rusted gate stands proud, alone.

Its hinge creaks tales of yesteryears,

Of laughter lost and whispered fears.

Once swung with ease, it marked the way,

Where cattle grazed at dusks soft sway.

Now coated thick in rust and dust,

It binds the past, a time we trust.

Beneath the stars, the stories flow,

Of cowhands bold and loves sweet glow.

Each world it’s shut, each world it’s freed,

A pivot round which hearts can heed.

As dawn breaks wide, with colors bold,

The rusted hinge, both young and old,

Beckons new paths beneath the sky,

Reminds us all, we too must fly.