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Born of a natural gardener
I turn over the soil,
Mow the lawn,
Pull up the weeds,
It makes me yawn.
I cut back shrubs,
My hands I prick.
What the hell makes
A gardener tick?
Many an Insect
Are ready to bite
And big creepy crawlies
Are out there to fright.
Don’t know the difference
Between weeds and a flower,
To plant one and grow one
I’ve not got that power.
I look at my garden
Sit here and sigh
The sun shines down –
A big blue sky.
It’s time again
To go and do war
Why is it only me
That finds it a chore?
Re-cut the grass,
Work up a sweat,
Wish it were winter
Wish it were wet.
Rake up the cuttings
Turn over the soil
‘Very therapeutic’
Labour and toil!
Dear Mum and dad,
I can’t be like you,
But if you’re looking down –
The garden’s still askew!
Linda Lawrence
22nd April 1995
(Happy birthday mum)