I’ll Have a Shed of My Own Some Day



I lay awake last night thinking about my shed.
Several of my friends have sheds of their own
(for several reasons). One day I may need one too.
My shed will probably contain Cuprinol and white spirit.
A modest range of shiny, lightweight tools will hang from
hooks in tidy rows. I’ll have a Flymo Easi-Glide 300.
I will require electric shears, since even I know
hedges, trees and weeds will not stop growing.
Our old shed and the things inside will need to go,
although I’ll miss the smell. I’ll maybe keep a few
tobacco tins with useful clouts and tacks and springs
‘cos like you say, one can’t get single screws or nails
or washers anywhere these days for love or money.
My shed will have a lock to deter the casual burglar.
I’m guessing I might  need some help in putting up my shed
and sorting plugs and lights (I’ll have to cross that bridge)
but when I show my friends around my shed, they will be
much impressed by my display of new-found enterprise
and independence. I thought about an old oak writing desk
in lieu of workbench, but I know that’s just plain silly—
there’ll be no poetry in the new shed. Woodlice, snails
and woodworm won’t be invited in. Likewise, all mice—
I will not countenance timidity. But I may admit a spider
to lace the windows for me come September.
 
Annie Fisher


If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Annie Fisher would be pleased to hear them.