Old Iron Gate

I wish I had an old iron gate, one with swirly patterns and sun symbols. I don't want it to keep people out like so many hostile neighbors do. I just want it as a fence for the farm I hope to have someday. I can imagine some squash or cucumbers growing underneath it, their long vines clinging to its chipping, rusty bars. There would be an old wooden barrel nearby as well, filled with rainwater and topped with those funny bugs that jump on the surface of lakes. There might also be an old boot, converted into a container for succulents.  There would be clotheslines with freshly washed, perhaps paisley sheets, strung between towering trees. There would be wooden sculptures, carved by the neighbors that the iron gate had invited.   If you listened carefully, you'd be able to distinguish faint guitar chords amongst the laughter of people and the hum of grasshoppers.

I wish I had an old iron gate....