Poet Authority Poem Terminal

A gardener finally returned to his local garden centre
He felt overwhelmed by the vast quantities of pansies
Their sent pierced his mask and he struggled to breathe
He became faint and dizzy and staggered around trying to find his footing
He was grasping at the pansies but the petals just peeled away
He collapsed into the collection of gnomes and concrete lions
There were so many pansies

Walshy decided he was left handed
Yet another one of his quirks!
He went for a holiday at the end of the garden and wrote his housemates a postcard
The ink had been smeared across the page by Walshy's famous sweaty palms
The group could only work out one or two words
"We can't read this ruddy thing mate" Debs bellowed down the garden
Walshy was ignoring the group, they weren't on the holiday with him
He sloshed another bucket of water into his pile of sand and dipped his toes in

The man sees a bush.
He looks at the bush.
The bush leaves.
He is alone.

He admired the brickwork while walking by the house.
People don't really do that these days.
It's more about the shrubbery.
He thinks to himself unsure if it's true.