Only When The Neighbours Are Away - Poem by Ian Bowen
She had always loved
the hard slog of gardening;
so digging the 'long trench'
had not been too much for her sixty years.
Now resting on her shovel,
she stared up at the back of her house.
Focuses her worried eyes
on the only window
with the closed curtains.
The old carpet in the shed...
would do nicely.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You