The Fence Post

I am but a post.
Have I stood the test of time?
Who cries when I die?

My rusty wire
Supports and ties together
All that I survive.

Aged, withered, wisdom
Weeps out of every frail pore
Before rot begins.

Tho rot is my form,
Attractive sadness etched by
The many long passing years.

My creator, dead.
My passing goes unnoticed,
Yet still I stand here.

Supporting rusting
Lines to keep the living out
And so the lived in.

When my time does come
At last after all these long
Years of waiting here

Alone, unnoticed
Yet completing the one role
I was formed to do,

A discarded pile
Lies left to rot in silence,
It's job done - and well.

© 2005 Maljam/Mallard