Sunday at the Garden Centre

I’ve too often succumbed to the killing time option of a browse around the shortbread and weedkiller at my local garden centre. Sundays eh? 

After a lie-in and soon bored
Go for a drive to Garden World
See tinned travel sweets, fishing gnomes
Porcelain mice in rustic homes
Hear doorbells play Beethoven’s Fifth
Buy surname scrolls, sold out for Smith
Birdhouses, benches and wind chimes
Toadstools playing nursery rhymes
Sunday. This was your decision
A pot plant kind of religion
Rest awhile on that patio chair
Tell me: You’d rather be elsewhere 

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