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Posted by on Jun 4, 2015 in Daily Life, Sad Poetry | 0 comments

Poem: Allotments

 

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It’s not much, really

just a piece of land that nobody wants

down by the railway line

I built a sort of shed out of planks

and chicken wire

and an old wardrobe

it does the job

good enough for the likes of me

my runner beans look to be nearly ready

and I will say my rhubarb did well last year

the soil’s quite good

I should count myself lucky

although it is

a bit of a mess, now I come to look at it

I should get rid of those weeds along the side

I have a crack at them most Saturdays

my heart’s not really in it though

I gaze out across the tracks

and imagine a garden

a bench to sit on, you know

flower beds, a bit of a patio

and while I’m at it

fountains on the terrace

peacocks strutting through elegant archways

and air perfumed with the scent

of English roses

lawns sweeping down to the lake

and swans

yes, I think I’ll have a couple of swans

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