The White Gate
The path is Agapanthus strewn
freedom for women colours;
green and purple heads bob
in the Freo Doctor, interrupted
by blossoms which match the gate.
Hung upon squat solid upright stone,
it swings inwards, inviting entry
to this secret garden, lusted with
love, Christmas feasts, familial
fecundity, rapturously shared.
Reluctantly closed until next year…
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2015
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