Well Folks, here is the finished poem. Having never tried writing poetry before I am quite pleased with myself, am I allowed.
Garden Gate Gossip
“My Dear, I do beg your pardon
Just what is that plant in your garden?
It’s such a beautiful red
In the corner of that bed”
“That’s ‘Geum, Mrs Bradshaw’ Lady Marden”
“I do think your lilac’s sublime,
Looks good growing next to the lime,
Well no time to chat
Must go feed the cat
I’ll catch you again here sometime”
“Yes, next time I’ll make us some tea
Come round about half past three
We’ll sit in the sun
Have an éclair or a bun,
How about Friday, will you be free?”
“Well, you’re really too kind Mrs Bate
Much better than chat over the gate
His Lordship’ll be out
Fishing for trout
So Friday it is, that’s a date”
Friday dawned bright, warm and sunny,
Mrs Bate thought it really quite funny
That her little garden
Should attract lady Marden
Her up to her eyeballs in money.
At three the oven timer was pinging
Molly Bate was happily singing
The cakes were all made
And the table was laid
Then the phone started urgently ringing
“My Dear, I hope you don’t mind
A dog sitter I couldn’t find
May I bring Daniel
My little spaniel?
Oh, I can, you are ever so kind”
So they lazily sat in the garden
Molly Bate and sweet Sally Marden
With the dog at their feet
It was such a treat
The cement in their friendship did harden.
They chatted about their long lives
Both having been honest wives
Molly widowed by war
Which left her quite poor
That was why she kept bees in two hives.
She grew lavender, thyme and red clover
That the bees loved and hovered over
She sold much of the honey
(To bring in some money)
At the farmers market just outside Dover.
Sally met her dear husband on a train
He, on his way back to the Front again
She was a W.R.E.N
And didn’t know then
He’d ‘bump’ into her next day in the rain.
They married soon after war had ended
In the country they’d fiercely defended
They were blessed with one child
A daughter, pretty but wild,
On a governess’s help they depended.
Now the sun was beginning to set
And these ladies, so glad to have met
Bade each other goodnight
In the last of the light
They’ll be friends forever, you bet.
By J M Churchill
