Through the iron gates

 
 
 sleepwalking is her bane
 swirling her auburn mane
 she walks through dark gates
 They close in on her, with disdain
 

 awake, alert … she is now grown
 looks for space to call her own
 mountain guards laugh at her
 she’ll soon be just another stone
 

 there are many of her ilk there
 hardened, but no wear and tear
 they warned her of the fatal step
 but in a daze, she did not hear
 
 

What do you see # 64