"One Fateful Day"
a poem by Martin Binnington
My boss phoned today,
"Are you busy tomorrow Martin?"
I heard him say, anticipating
an outrageous demand.
"No plans," said I, "what can I do?"
He wanted help in the garden.
A sinking feeling,
I was looking forward to some rest,
But my good nature took over and said "YES".
Tomorrow came too quickly,
Sun shining, no clouds in the sky.
This couldn't last; it's Scotland after all!
In early afternoon, after a sandwich and a drink,
"I could phone and say I'm busy" I think.
But no, I donned my shirt and shorts,
Tied my running shoes tight
And left the comfort of home.
Ten minutes passed, I arrived at my boss's,
Wheezing as I knocked on the door.
I saw the devastation,
felt the same sinking feeling from the day before.
A tree surgeon had been,
branches and leaves lay strewn on the lawn
"Dammit! There goes my afternoon!"
After a rest, to catch my breath,
we set to work, carrying branches
on our shoulders or a barrow in my boss's case.
Back and forth, but never ending,
it looked a hopeless task.
Soon though, the tide turned,
our effort worked, but my shoulders burned,
from the glare of the afternoon sun.
A while later, the end was in sight
the boss left me to it and went inside.
My back started aching,
it felt like my spine was breaking,
and I still had the journey home!
Good poem, I can feel how you felt that day!
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