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The Greenhouse

Memories of old and grey

Returning thoughts of a summers day

Greenhouse building, a work of love

Granddad and Grandson working all day

Fish and chips came, lunch was served

Our labours checked over, acutely observed

Then by tradition, after a meal

His pipe found ignition, five minutes more we would steal

Two hours spent, now half past four

Try all we might, we could not fit the door

Enthusiasm still did not wane

My Father and Uncles, through the gate they came

Checking our work, verdict was given

We had done it all wrong, they said in derision

I looked over to Grandad to see what he would do

He reached for his tobacco tin, his pipe lit anew

An hour are so later, our work was returned

To the state that we had it, we were right, the first time

He used our construction, for the rest of his life

So I will always remember, the smell of that pipe

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