Poems by Carolanne Murphy
The Garden Shed
The rain beat down on the
old tin roof.
He sat and listened a while,
A cigarette in one hand
A can in the other.
He sighed!
Life is good.
The garden shed
A place of peace,
His hideaway.
He looked around,
Tools, tins of paint,
Bits of old wood,
Bottles of turpentine,
Nails and screws.
Not everyone's idea of paradise
But this was full of memories.
Making a doll’s house,
Fixing a chair.
Everything he needed.
Not used much now,
Just him and his wife.
He loved her still
After fifty years
But he still needed his space.
One more puff,
One more sip
As he took in the familiar smell.
That brought back
So many happy memories.
He'd better get inside now
Dinner would be done.
An evening by the telly.
Yes, life was good
In his twilight years.