Today my son was playing in a curtain raiser game,
the captain of his rugby team, it says beside his name.
I read the programme booklet and I sat and watched him win.
And then we dashed off in the car to cricket, he'd begin
as opener when batting, my poor exhausted boy.
He's 17 and fit but 2 sports daily's a killjoy.
It's just as well the winter sports have finished now so he
can concentrate on cricket and make grass stains just for me
to wash off long white trousers. (Nappy bleach is best).
I wonder if I'll ever watch him play a national test.

This afternoon I mixed some spray and spent the sunny hours
aiming deadly herbicide at weeds that rival towers.
It's something I have meant to do for weeks, at last it's done.
I hope I haven't shot a lot of good plants with that 'gun'.
My garden used to be a place where I would potter, peacefully,
I loved to watch the seasons show I'd planned it carefully.
I didn't mind the time it took to keep the weeds at bay,
I actually enjoyed the thought of wasting all my day.
But lately all the maintenance has turned into a chore
and even walking 'round to spray is nothing but a bore.
Perennials I grew and spread from cuttings don't survive
the blast of poison squirted onto grass that will contrive
to spring up in between the pretty flowers every year.
It's sad I guess but that is life. Beauty must be rare.


SMALL MINDS DISCUSS PEOPLE
AVERAGE MINDS DISCUSS EVENTS
GREAT MINDS DISCUSS IDEAS