Bide Awhile

A garden in my home town of some renown,
where lovers forgot everything when they sat down;
my father had 'green' fingers, so much on display,
he seemed to blend with his Fair Isle pullover okay.

Hollyhocks, red hot pokers, pansies and forget-me-nots,
even pampas grass and oddly leaves with turquoise spots,
vegetables, climbing trellis seemed rather in hysteria,
daffodils, tulips, lupins, roses and blue wisteria.

He used to pause with his pipe to view a smooth lawn,
leaning on the apple tree with faded dungarees worn,
an inspection for dinner was a winner, runner beans,
celery, tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage, peas by all means.

I miss him, he'd stop from gardening, put me on his knee,
although we used to fight, he was always there for me.