I’d love a snail

I hugged a rowan tree but now it’s dead

The council said they’ll give me oak instead

It stood upon the pavement by the gate

But now it is what McCall Smith calls “late”

I wonder if self massage is the thing

Some perfumed lotion stolen on the wing.

I stroked my arms with Cream E45

Now they say I’m not allowed to drive!

I was sad but now I am at peace

All I needed was a plate of eggs and grease.