I’ve painted my shed; new shed
arrived nappy brown, and I,
not under the mass delusion
that equates that shade with real
wood, set-to with a paint brush:
a soft exterior green
to blend, and a white inside
wash, to banish dim dull light
whilst minimising the poop
tint with a great background for
some favourite quotes, painted
hearts, and flowers. My new shed
starts it’s time in my garden
in real neat folksy style,
already providing home,
shelter for spiders and bugs
as well as spikes and prongs,
tools by which I encourage;
buckets and brooms for tidy,
together with weapons of
mass destruction, my last chance
rescue for plants on the brink;
being munched to extinction.