PARDON THE GARDEN!

My garden is a picture. (I was thinking of "The Scream").

Though things I haven't planted are the biggest ever seen.

My nettles are magnificent, my dandelions prolific,

my pots attract a multitude of flora, non-specific.

I swear I only turned my back a moment, but no more

and there it was, a wilderness, where garden lay before.

Once the lawn was so benign, not something to be feared

but now it's got so long and next doors' granny disappeared.

Something black and slimey, reared on steroids by the size,

is aiming for my marigolds, I can't believe my eyes.

Should I call the SAS or RSPCA,

or shall I be humane and let it slither on its way.

I think I need a reaper and the grimmest would be best,

to get to grips with all this grass before the woodcocks nest.

Somewhere underneath it all, ants must surely lurk,

I don't think I'll discourage them, I know they love to work.

I'm thinking Serangetti when I cast my eye around,

so no surprise if Yetti or a wilderbeast is found.

I blame the weather centre for their lack of rain control,

it started with a shower or two and ended on a roll.

All I really wanted was a dahlia or such,

Maybe some lobelia, some heather, just a touch.

A lawn where I could sip some tea and eat a scone or two,

it can't be all that much to ask, I'm not expecting Kew.

But when they hold the contest for the garden of the year,

I'll send them up the road because they'll never find it here!