In the Garden.

Warm, and cosy I sleep tonight.

Alone, and silent, a peaceful night.

A dog named Spot, sleeps in his spot.

Too old for schooling.

Too young to feel this strain.

Food will take the pain away.

In a dream, a vision shows.

Plant, some seeds, and watch them grow.

As morning dawns.

Refreshed, and awake, I look at Spot.

And feel guilt at that.

Spot, is my friend, loyal, and forever.

Why does this body not deliver?

Into the forests, and the oceans end.

Spot, needs to run over the hills.

In a cupboard, that time forgot.

A pack of seeds, I know not what.

The writing has faded, what could they be?

Out in the garden, I plant the seeds.

Pain is returning, what could it be?

Quicker this time, because I planted the seeds.

The seeds are so old, could they still grow?

Day, after day, I tend to the row.

The pain in my back, is starting to go.

Excitement! There growing.

What could they be?

I look at my tomb, created by me.

A chair, by the TV, is where I would be.

Cream cakes, and toffees.

Biscuits, and Cheese.

Oh, apple tree, I run to thee.

The garden, is now my sanctuary.

Blossoms are forming.

The wind is growing, rain is lashing, but I am dancing.

Free from all pain, the seeds saved my fate.

Spot, runs through a farmer’s gate.

And I will eat, from a different plate.