The ace was overturned;
The sticks had all been thrown.
He couldn’t think of a thing that he had learned
Just from being alone.
The meat had all been eaten;
Nothing but oats remained.
So many things that life had taken away,
So few things had been gained.
Although he could not see them,
They had gathered behind the gate.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
No messages by foot;
No signals sent from birds.
The bubbles in the creek made noise
But he couldn’t make out the words.
One of his friends had lied to him and
The other friend was dead.
He didn’t feel like riding into the town
With a price upon his head.
Although he could not feel them,
They had gathered behind the gate.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
He opened books from time to time but
The words looked like a blur.
He leaned over to pet his dog and to smell
The earthy scent of fur.
Why cry? He was a man
And a man he intended to be!
But sometimes the hopelessness swept over him like a wave
And water in his eyes made it hard to see.
But, although he did not know them,
They had gathered behind the gate.
There was nothing to do now but wait.
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