Thursday, 16 May 2013

Someone Has To Mow The Lawn

I once had good cause to ask a friend, ‘What’s the point of living when the love of your life has died?’

My friend had lost his partner some years earlier and I suppose I was expecting pearls of wisdom. Instead, she gave me a lovely, enigmatic smile, shrugged, and said, ‘Someone has to mow the lawn.’

It was a long while before I understood what she meant.


My clothes need washing,
shopping needs doing,
and who’ll mow the lawn?

My lunch needs preparing,
potatoes need peeling
and who’ll mow the lawn?

The dog will need grooming,
birdcage cleaning,
and who’ll mow the lawn?

Our rose trees need pruning,
fences need mending,
and who’ll mow the lawn?

Our bed, it will need making
(the mattress turning)
and who’ll mow the lawn?

But time to be up and leaving
your grave I'm haunting,
and go mow the damn lawn

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

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