Poem: Mud Bath.
Mud Bath.
.
We were walking carefully
Along the February riverside,
Slipping through slick mud
And avoiding the dog shit.
We decided to take a break
By looking in the Garden Centre
.
It was quite bare and drab
With none of summer’s show.
You saw a bucket by the counter
Holding two sad bunches of flowers
One twenty five a bunch
Or two for two pounds.
.
You bought them for me anyway
Presenting them with a bow,
I am looking at them now
Drooping in a cut glass vase
Feeling bucked up immensely
By their cheering conversation.
.
.
??