Steel gates, familiar barriers,
Fountain on the front lawn,
Frozen at Christmas with welcome.
Beauty to be seen,
If eyes are open to a rising child.
You sit in humble hut sharing pieces of your art
With words, stitching, and molding clay;
From poverty to joy and into creation with surprise.
Each day, each passing season
From lengthy nights to early light,
A child, an amber in your heart
Sits there each day and every night,
Accepting the growing creative warmth
With stage struck awe and sudden applause.
The last day’s door, left unlocked,
Entered a glowing amber and a chauffeur
Carrying a request, to visit the gates at Solstice.
A heart and mind aging
Is still open to the ‘morrow’s guests.
Some not yet arrived, sent their invitation
To visit the sunrise, of the best wall hanging, doll,
Clay cup, bowl, and saucer,
On the lap of New Years Child.
The gate was, as you supposed,
Never closed. Open for a year of original art.
The driver drove inside, thru melting steel gates
And a gushing fountain in the front yard.
Tea and light is served in a babies cup,
Sitting on a brightening lace doily,
For you, when you arrive.