Maureen's Poem On Sheds, Tents And Caves

What is a shed


But a little place


to give one's head


Personal space




To some the hut


Is full of tools


To create stuff


By craftsmans rules




My grandad owned


A pigeon cree


Where pets and friends


Were company




From childhood I


Remember when


The shed was my


Escape den




At grandmas was


A big oak table


Where to retreat


I was able




Under the green


Tassled cover


I played unseen


From all other




And still space


Means much to me


In my summerhouse


With God I be






Posted at 01:56am on 18th May 2012
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