Grass

I’m obsessed with my grass.
I’ve decided it’s down alas,
To my own sad lack of coverage.
A substitute for my thinning thatch
A topiary toupee of colours that match
I should stick to an alcoholic beverage.
 
An attempt to make it thick with bounce
I better not mention an odd ounce,
When referring to my obsession.
And words like weed could be misconstrued
Depending on how it has been viewed
There’s no need for a confession.
 
My love of grass and hate of weeds
Means a ceaseless spread of seeds,
To cover the balding patches.
My tendered lawn that’s always watered
Forever fed I feel I’m tortured
By weeds with endless hatches.
 
Moss keep off, I’ve decreed no weeds.
Yet they always appear and my heart now bleeds
To end this ceaseless fight.
And I feel that now I must give in
But those weeds they shall not win.
I’ll wage war once more against this blight.
 
So on to scarify and rarify
And seaweed strength to fortify,
To feed the lawn to give me hope
Against those dreaded dandelions
That infest and shackle me in irons.
A cry for help to a retired Pope!
 
Feeding lawns with Grass conditioner and aftercut
More like a salon than a garden hut.
I’ll call on laws long arms or truncheon
To keep grass green and weeds well fought
And take it to the highest court.
Weeds here’s a super injunction!
 
Oh for my love of grass and tendered lawns
Those weeds now make me so forlorn
At tethers’ end and almost fled.
Rescue me from these tormentors
Perhaps I should call upon cementers
And have a patio instead!