Giving ReBirth to a Border.

I feel scabby,
Unwashed for three days.
I got crabby,
And lashed my toungue.

Don't ask.
The roots went deep.
The grass was thick
And good plants ran wild.

No Tao or Dao
No Capuchin smile,
No talk or denial,
it was true grit,
and aggression,
that finished the trial.
(And a broken nail and no file).

Worth the effort.
The labour of love
To get those Biannuals
And much favoured Perrenials
Arranged in decorative disorder.

Exhausted and smelly,
Perfumed bath at the ready,
Scrubbing and soaking
the grime from my skin,
The sheets are all clean,
and the new bed tucked in.

So an old border,
between Garden and Yard
Might blossom in colour.
The Postman might notice,
or Lady from Church...(Unlikely though).
It's Me who will feel,
A nice border seperates...A Yard from a Field.