The Detour

There's a garden next to my place of work
Where I can get fresh air

In these testing times, for body and mind
It saves my life, I swear

There's a sleepy lion that doesn't bite
He's made from plaster and araldite

A cheaky gnome hides in a shrub
Without a facemask on

A wren flies down to pluck a grub
Just like a French croisant

Along the edge of a raised garden bed,
Bikiniless skinks decorate to embellish

Nearby, a blue-eyed daisy head
Cascades down terracota crate

The scents of fleshly roses I relish
While I avoid the tasks I hate

I take it all in as long as I can
The clients can jolly wait