Thursday, April 7, 2011




The local Garden Club invited me as a guest.
(If I'd been quizzed on gardening I wouldn't have passed the test!)
No, I was asked to read poems about the gardener's lot,
And I had to leaf through old poems to see what I had got.
The garden itself was lovely, the flowers a great display,
The members very welcoming; all in all, a lovely day.
But on a whitewashed wall I spied these relics from long ago.
Intriguing and attractive, hanging high and hanging low.
I thought they were a great idea; I 'clicked' and that was that.
And below see me reading poems in a shady gardening hat!



Sepia, the colour of nostalgia,
Of old-times and dreaming in the shade.
It's the colour of oft-told stories
When parchment pages fade.
White is pure and dazzling,
Grey is rather depressed,
Black is melancholy,
But sepia is never stressed.
This doll has an air of history,
She seems from yesteryear.
I saw her at a doll display.
She was only made last year!

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