I love gates.
Gates are the very things
I am fond of.
Not the huge iron gates
Crackling with steel mesh
And threats,
To keep you in,
But the lovely little
Wooden gates,
Awash with tall grasses
And latches,
To let you out.
These gates, I love.

©2020 Gwen Grant

Thankfully, I now have limited access to notifications.
Unfortunately, I still cannot access any notifications
generated over this past week but, hopefully,
this situation will be sorted soon. Thanks to all.

10 thoughts on “I LOVE GATES

  1. This is not about your poem so much but rather about the memories it evokes. I think I remember from my childhood an “I-Spy” book about farms that included items about different and regional styles of farm gates. I may have imagined that.

    But your poem brings back innumerable memories of finding gates, leaning on gates, and then opening gates. (And of course, closing them behind.)


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