Uncle Steve is in love.
No more talk of cedars and poplars
Or long-handled loppers.
Of the perils of cutting a Leylandii hedge
Or conquering Ben Nevis
And Striding Edge.
No - he sits dreamy-eyed.
Sends secret texts. And when he talks,
He talks of her...
Of her hair, of her skin,
Of her slender frame,
And the seven long days till
They meet again.
Not even a mention of nights
With the lads.
For Uncle Steve is in love
And he's got it bad.
Copyright,2007
Sounds like he is really head over heels. Congratulations Steve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good luck to Uncle Steve!