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The Old Gate

Many a place that time leaves behind Hold memories that never rust Like the now broken swing where skyward you'd climb It now creaks as it sways in a windy gust The old wooden house where you once lived Held memories of laughter and fun With beauty from nature derived Playing where the rivers run The rustling leaves of the old oak tree is remembered by those who explored its branches Now it plays a sentimental melody As recollections flow without stanches Impressions may come and go But in some forgotten corridor of the mind An image will suddenly show "By the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find"

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 6/6/2025 2:11:00 AM
Old memories resurrect very often of the house we lived and the surroundings we loved. Beautifully written.
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Date: 6/3/2025 6:10:00 AM
These memories tapped, do they live somewhere, I wonder! God bless,
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Date: 6/1/2025 6:37:00 PM
Great memories, branches for climbing, rivers rolling, and one of my favorite memories - the old swingset!
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Date: 6/1/2025 11:45:00 AM
This nostalgic but also deep in meaning... love that last line..
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Date: 5/31/2025 2:32:00 PM
A fantastic poem with so many historic and metaphoric layers, Joseph. Well-composed
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Date: 5/31/2025 1:11:00 PM
- I love these old memories ... from a completely different time than today ... a wonderful poem, Joseph :) - Best wishes in the contest :) - hugs
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Date: 5/31/2025 10:58:00 AM
What a wonderful write/story you have here. Love It.... "Good Luck" We both did this one. Have a lovely day writing away................
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things