‘Be careful what you wish for”, you often hear them say,
and now the grass grows greener, each and every day.

There once were worn out strips, of dirt and kicked up patches.
Running games and chasing games, and games of throws and catches.

The lawn was bashed and beaten, broken and abused.
Children squealed with delight, a yard well worn and used.

Why couldn’t they be careful, be more considerate I thought,
with the lawn I’m trying to grow, and the equipment I just bought.

If only like the neighbours, my yard was clean and bright,
then I would be happy, and sleep quite well at night.

I wished for grass like carpet, a tidy space to admire,
instead it looked as though, there had been a great bonfire.

But now those days are gone, the kids no longer gather,
And now the yard is kept and clean, nothing could be sadder.

No longer do I wish to see, a lawn so green and plain,
but wish with heart so broken, to have those days again.

Why couldn’t I realise, when I had it in my sight,
kids playing in the dirt, is by far the greatest delight.

You can have your perfect lawns, your showroom house and kitchen,
I’d give it all, for mess and clutter, that I happily would sit in.

It makes me sad to see, grass underneath the swing,
free of worn down patches, no children does it bring.

‘Be careful what you wish for”, you often hear them say,
and now the grass grows greener, each and every day.