It is spring; it’s lovely outside. And I’ve been in my garden.
I wrote this poem last year; obviously I was a little frustrated
If at any point my life seems drab and stale
My head begins to ache, my heart to harden
I open up my backdoor and go into my garden.
My gaze casts wide and never seems to fail
To find some joy and hopefulness
Amongst the verdant fruitfulness
But then alas, I spot the glitch, the little silver trail
Whose pretty zigzag wanderings
Will start some morbid ponderings
Could it be the bugger’s back? It’s beyond the pale
When you’ve spent so long in eradication
To see that shell is pure vexation
A battle won is not the war, o stubborn little snail
Beating you is a complete lost cause
I’m giving up; I’m off indoors.