Maureen's Poem On Sheds, Tents And Caves

What is a shed

 

But a little place

 

to give one's head

 

Personal space

 

 

 

To some the hut

 

Is full of tools

 

To create stuff

 

By craftsmans rules

 

 

 

My grandad owned

 

A pigeon cree

 

Where pets and friends

 

Were company

 

 

 

From childhood I

 

Remember when

 

The shed was my

 

Escape den

 

 

 

At grandmas was

 

A big oak table

 

Where to retreat

 

I was able

 

 

 

Under the green

 

Tassled cover

 

I played unseen

 

From all other

 

 

 

And still space

 

Means much to me

 

In my summerhouse

 

With God I be

 

 

 

 

 

Posted at 01:56am on 18th May 2012
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