THE GATE (TWO PONIES)

One little pony, shivering in the night,
Wandering 'round a lake, searching for a drink.
One little pony, warm and in the barn,
Strolling through the hay, sipping from the sink.

That ranch looks nice, that farmer kind.
Is there a path that leads inside?


One little pony, playing in the forest,
Getting hungry now, with hope for food now fading.
One little pony, tugging at the plow,
Work’s almost done, and dinner's waiting.

That plow’s not bad, that food smells good.
Is there a path that leads me from these woods?


One little pony, prancing through a meadow,
Rolling in the flowers, now napping by a pond.
Look! Some grass, and there’s a spring.
Let’s grab a bite, let’s have a drink.

One little pony, penned in the corral,
Kicking in the dirt, feet kicking in the air.
No work today! The fields are done.
Please let me out, let’s have some fun.

That fence is high, those barbs are sharp.
Is there a way I can get out?


One little pony, standing by the gate,
Calling to his friend, showing him the way.
That gate’s too narrow, that path too slim,
It’s better here, just come on in.

One little pony, still waiting at the gate,
Still calling to his friend, still urging him to come.
That gate IS narrow, that path IS slim,
I’ll still be waiting, when you find Him.

Two little ponies, running free.


David J Allen
September 17, 2004


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