One thought on “Through the Back Gate / Ellen Roberts Young”
Boy, does this ever bring back memories of the outdoor part of my grandparents house back on eastern Long Island. No alyssum, but fruit trees and riding my bike around the home’s perimeter on the slate tiles. How much we can take for granted as children and how dearly treasure these memories in our later years! This poem strongly evokes that long running sentence which is childhood.
Third Wednesday Magazine 
Boy, does this ever bring back memories of the outdoor part of my grandparents house back on eastern Long Island. No alyssum, but fruit trees and riding my bike around the home’s perimeter on the slate tiles. How much we can take for granted as children and how dearly treasure these memories in our later years! This poem strongly evokes that long running sentence which is childhood.
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