The Gate
Timber slatted,
flaking paintwork,
round-arched frame in high brick wall.
Clicking latch-key,
creaking hinges,
rusting bolt that slowly draws.
Secret door to unknown garden,
opening to another world,
entrance to a different lifetime,
exit gate from yours.
12 comments:
It takes me back to Enid Blyton.
GG: I was thinking of you this morning. I still use the notes you gave me on the rare occasions I do a link:)
what a beautiful homage to a really beautiful verse pat - you did it great honor with your mysterious gate - although, i must confess, i'm not sure i've ever passed a gate i was not compelled to open! what great restraint you have! ;)
Perfect Poem for a Perfect Picture...
Like the door to "THE SECRET GARDEN", onr wonders what is on the other side---I hope you DO see what is behind that door, my dear Pat....!
I hope you get a chance to come by and see my post about "MARLENE"....
I really wish that door was on my pool pump house! Beautiful.
Pat, the picture of the gate is absolutely perfect! If I hadn't already written a poem, it would inspire me to do so.
I hope you get to see behind it one day soon.
And thank you for your very kind words about my words.
Gypsywoman: I didn't try but I assumed it would be locked.
Naomi: one of these days.
I'll be round for Marlene shortly.
Judy: I seem to remember our elusive Scottish friend had a similar one in his garden.
Sharon: so glad it was a happy marriage;)
There something fascinating about gates and doors, that feeling of mystery as to what's on the other side.
Love the poem and the photo!
oh I think a little peak would have been called for
LL Cool Joe:isn't it great when things come together?
LOM; I know - you go to Fremington and brave the gate. I bet it is locked.
oh, pat, when it comes to doors and what awaits us on the other side, one must never ever "assume"!!! ;) uh, excuse me, my perspective, anyway! ;)
Gypsywoman: as long as it isn't a game keeper with a fierce dog.
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