Garden Neat V Little Feet 23-1-19
“Turn your whine into wines.
Treasure all those little signs.
For their return, you will long.
At a time when they are gone.”
Remember when the cricket pitch.
Chewed the lawn, you had a bitch.
Had fragile plants as their stumps.
Bits broke off, you got the grumps.
Remember when ground was bare.
There was no lawn surviving there.
Trifle dusty and was rarely neat.
Constant pounding of little feet.
You suggest outside could be done.
No way Mum, too many burs, no fun.
But you survived all the cricket trials.
Enjoyed the games, had some smiles
Rules said ‘Ball in Bougainvillea’ is OUT
Resident ‘Paper Wasps’ leave no doubt.
Now lawn is green with plants pristine.
Garden at its best you have ever seen.
Will never be able to compete.
The place of dust from little feet.
One good thing you should know.
A time back when, no need to mow.
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