I managed to escape the concrete jungle.

I didn’t dare look behind me –

I was afraid it would follow me. Stress.

I looked out at the countryside,

its rolling hills inviting me in.

I approach an old gate,

oh the stories it probably has to tell.

If only that gate could speak, 

it would be a world renowned author.

It’s friend the water pump –

How long has it been there?

Is it friends with the old gate?

I managed to escape the terrors of modern life.

In the presence of the gate my stress turned into 

security and curiosity.

I wish I could be friends with the gate,

he seems like a nice fellow.

For as long as I live, I wanted to be here by the gate, 

and listen to its stories.