38 – Gardeners’ World

Poem number 38
Gardeners’ World
Modern life is hectic
Full of too much rush
Stomachs are dispeptic
Earholes long for simple hush
But in the midst of madness
Standing calmly, flag unfurled
Exuding gentle gladness
Is the wondrous Gardeners’ World.
Monty Don content, serene
He talks of earth and shrubs
Surrounded by a sea of green
And flowers grown in tubs,
A Friday evening tonic for
The modern stressed out soul
A break from refugees and war
Some change to pay our toll.


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