Shed Wars - by Ruth Butler

a poem by member Ruth Butler

 Shed Wars

Its just a shed, Fred,
It’s black and ‘orrible,
It’s quite an eyesore
And steals my light.
It’s gotta go.
It’s just a shed, Mike, but I like it.
I’ve got my things in it,
I even sing in it... 

Yes Fred, we know.
Yes, we can hear you!
It’s gotta go. 
It’s just a shed, Mike, but I need it.
I keep my bike in it,
I make my beer in it...
 Yes Fred, we know.
Bottles explode in it!
It’s gotta go.

It’s a useful shed, Mike, I store things in it,
stuff I might throw away, I can sling in it,
save the decisions... for another day.   

Yes, Fred, we know.
So much stuff, and I think it smells -
there could be rats as well!      
It’s gotta go. 

 It’s NOT just a shed, Mike, 
Its a  place of my own  -                     
I go in there... when I wanna be alone.
Just me, and little Cedric, my rat,
seeking sanctuary
from your cat. 
And what about that
ugly metal contraption
your side of the fence, Mike,
held together with wire and string.
It’s an eyesore and it clatters,
makes such a din on windy nights
that  I have to sleep with earplugs in.
I’ve never mentioned it before, 
I’m not that impolite.                                   (2013)