you draw rust where heat’s been;

some passage of time;

life’s clouded outcomes;

weather or not we care.


you’re iron to me; blood strength.

took years to find you;

all: frame, hinge, key, arch;

allowing passage back.




◄ out side

kitchen ►


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steve pottinger

Thu 12th Oct 2017 14:03

This poem paints a beautiful picture, Becky.

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Raj Ferds

Thu 12th Oct 2017 09:03

I quite like this piece Becki in all its simplicity.
Gates can mean a lot if you dwell on the role they play.

For me they are a silent witness to comings and goings. gates open conversations and shut things out. Gates opens minds. They have a history.

Nice one.

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