The Garden Shed |
It was just a weathered garden shed, In the shadow of a tree, With faded boards and sagging door, But a wonderment to me. Inside upon the wooden floor, Were garden tools and things, The smell of leaves when they are dry, Such memories they do bring.In days when I was but a child, We’d visit Uncle George, And he would give me Blackjack Gum, A friendship we would forge. And just outside his garden shed, That time has passed, I’m older now, by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul |