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My Shed

A ball of twine, a washing line A bag of peat, an old dust sheet A rope Some wire An old flat tyre A roller-skate, a garden gate Some dry grass seed, a millipede A sack of sand, one glove, left hand A torch A mallet A painters pallet A cracked fish tank, a broken plank A headless gnome, some dried out loam An old bike bell, a snail shell A spade A fork A champagne cork The dogs toy bone, a traffic cone It's cleared away, it took all day I find it is, quite safe to say It used to fit, But who knows how My garden shed is empty now

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Date: 1/11/2012 7:13:00 AM
I am stopping by to thank you for sharing your poetry with us Nick. I would also like to thank you for your kind comments on my poetry. Love, Carol
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Date: 12/20/2011 12:56:00 PM
Love it!
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Date: 12/17/2011 12:53:00 AM
This is great! You described a garden shed well, and kept our minds flooded with poetic imagry into your memory and mind. Always, Laura
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Date: 11/27/2011 6:22:00 PM
Yes, oh yes even in Australia!
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Date: 11/25/2011 12:50:00 PM
Very well put and so true to all life found in sheds the length and breadth of the land. Enjoyed.
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Date: 11/25/2011 9:49:00 AM
Man I love my garden shed. My son and I were outside cooking the turkeys for Thanksgiving in my smoker and we stood there admiring the shed and then we went and stood in it.
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Date: 11/25/2011 9:16:00 AM
Very funny, thought this was great!
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