A
garden
shed, a garden
shed, my head is like
a garden shed: it's full of junk and
flower pots, wellie boots and who knows not -
No, really though, my head is crammed
you can't get in, the door is jammed:
with things I've seen, things I've said
things I've done and things I've read
Plus everything I've thought about -
... if I was you - I'd just keep out! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem