Gardening Shoes
by Dan Keeble
Arthur turned up
at a house one day,
With a need to supplement his pay.
His meagre pension would not do,
And odd jobs added a bob or two.
She took him into the garden, and said,
“It needs a tidy, there’s tools
in the shed.”
She brought him tea and let out a gasp,
That made him drop the spade from his
grasp.
“Where did you get those shoes?”
she cried out.
They were once her husband’s,
without a doubt.
Those brown leather shoes with bright red
laces,
Took him to women in too many places.
“From a charity shop,” Arthur
replied.
“They said the owner suddenly died.”
She clearly recalled that fateful day,
When once more she caught him playing
away.
A few drops of something in his tea,
Put an end to his life quite easily.
She told the neighbours he’d left
for good
Then disposed of him the best she could.
Arthur dug and spent many long hours,
Tending to borders, shrubs, and flowers.
She said, “Landscape it all, if you
prefer,
But don’t dig close to the conifer.” |
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