Man Cave!

Man Cave!

She snuck in (I weren’t looking) She caught me off me guard,
Then she stood there, (all poncified) and staring rather hard,
And then appeared, (sarcastically) the language they all use,
When english words escape them, and they dare not use abuse.

“Tut tut, – dear dear, – what have we here? The mess is everywhere,
It really does need cleaning out, it’s more than I can bear,
There are things in here from long ago, that you just hoard and save”.
So I uttered in my strongest voice those immortal words, ” Man cave!”.

She had trespassed in my shed you see and scorned at things so dear to me,
It might seem needless clutter in her eyes, but they don’t see,
that all my little treasures here are memories of yesteryear, and each a part,
Of a jigsaw piece, that stirs my beating heart.

They may lie in the corner, going rusty and forlorn,
But I remember them as shiny silver things when they were born,
They are spanners and screwdrivers, there are saws and hammers too,
And tins of paint, (with a bit left in),  although the colours mainly blue.

There are spares for the lawnmower, (but I changed it long ago),
And some Dubbin for my football boots! (but my boots are gone, I know),
There are screws there by the hundred, and nails there by the score,
And a handle, that once dropped off, from a very posh front door.

There’s an old cap in the corner, that once, ‘ung on me ‘ed,
Exactly when I was doing this, ‘nafflin in me shed’,
There’s a bike stood in the corner, (but I can’t ride it any more),
And the tyres are flat and the saddle’s ripped, (where I caught it on the door).

You see, they aren’t rubbish, but a living testament,
A part of me, of who I am, and what my living meant,
My history is in this shed, and all the things I crave,
Are here! – within this ‘goldmine!’, – in my very own!
‘MAN CAVE!’

(So keep out, (now’t to do with you) xx
Mick

Copyright Michael Westwood 2016 

About the author

Mick Westwood
20545 Up Votes
I am a 71 year old retired coal miner, who spent 30 years working underground. Having time on my hands, and in order to keep my brain exercised, I decided to try to write poetry and put down on paper some of my life experience, and my hopes, dreams and other thoughts. I also do a little gardening, but I am hopeless at housework. Much to my wife's displeasure.

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