Guardians Poem by Peter Jones

The Guardians of the Gate are there
And will not let me through.
Their swords ring thunder in the night
And draw a blind across my sight.
Your hair fell down in golden light
But I am not with you.

They do not sleep but watch alone
And will not let me pass.
The wall is high, the wall is long,
The wall is deep, the wall is strong
And you are now where you belong
Beneath the summer grass.

And they stand tall beside the stream
Their armour forged in steel.
Their eyes are keen, their grip is firm,
They stand alone and, in return,
They hide the truth that none can learn...
And cause the scars to heal.

Am I locked in? or, just by chance,
Locked out behind this door?
The keepers of the gate are there
Who guard the guards with silent stare.
And you were lovely standing there,
Now lost for ever more.