Empty Aldi tins in the rubbish bin
Still make me think of you
Leave my trolley in lose my lollies in
The supermarket queue
Share my dirty rice with these dirty mice
They always get their half
That’s ok by me they’re good company
And Garfield makes them laugh
Neighbours dearie me always query me
Just what’s become of you
I tell ‘em you’ve gone convalescing on
A Caribbean cruise
I could understand that another man
Persuaded you to leave
But for you to think I should see a shrink
Now thats offending me
The gardener protects her tomb
Lies amongst the dirt and chuckles to the moon
Your friend from the gym thought of dropping in
And caught me in the act
I said you had phoned and were coming home
And could she wait out back
It’s a funny thing she loved gardening
She told me as she died
And it seems to be she smiles up at me
When she gets fertilised
The gardener protects her tomb
Lies amongst the dirt and chuckles to the moon
The gardener tattoos her sin
Red across her eyes and scarlet on her skin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem