Living in my retirement now
In apartment no place to go
Takes me back to days of gardens green
Filled with bright flowers and growing beans
Fruit trees with apples crisp and red
But being a lad ealy to bed
Large kitrchen to cook and eat meals
Smell of cinnamon quite appeals
Mum wielding knife with expertise
As she rolls pastry strips with such ease
We try in turns to copy her
They're oven bound doesn't worry her
"We'll go for a short walk" she says
We're getting a visit from Les
For the nightsoil man comes every week
She needs to escape from that reek
So off we go as he arrives
Thank goodness for she'd saved our lives
We cover our noses as he did start
Oven cares for tarts
We walk to woods picking flowers
Watching squirrels, making bowers
"Time now" says Mum "To check our tart"
He's gone" meaning the nightsoil cart
Image found at www.pixabay.com
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