A poem for many

There are roads stretching out

In every direction, as I look

Coloured, attractive images

The pages of an ideal book

Of life, as it should be

Each day shows something new

As Summer, Autumn, Winter

And Spring, come into view

But in front of every road

In reality, there is a gate

Too heavy to be opened

With a sign that says ‘just wait’

I think ‘I will climb over’

But no rungs can I find

I conclude that the roads are simply

Mirages in my mind

What makes me create

Such images of hope?

When I cannot, possibly, reach them

And simply have to cope

But, if I keep going, maybe

One day something will show

That the gates are the mirages

And the paths are mine to know

Copyright Audrey Coatesworth ( poem for book 'Glimpses'- as yet unpublished)