I Like to Write Poems

The Battle of the Bush
 
Did you know there is a war between Babs and a bush?
It started last spring when it grew with a whoosh.
The bush sent out branches that were soon headed high.
They grew ever taller they darkened the sky.
The first little battle was just a light trim.
To keep the bush controlled, shaped and slim.
Then the bush sent out creepers to spy out new lands.
Babs defended her boarder with garden gloved hands.
The branches kept growing unruly young tips.
Babs cut them back daily with little hand snips.
Skirmishes were fought with little self-gain.
But the bush built up foliage during the rain.
The bush decided it needed more room.
It needed the space to flourish and bloom.
Midsummer came the bush put on a spurt.
Reinforcements were called in thorns that can hurt.
Babs marshalled her troops and with shears she would hack.
The sorry looking bush then gave her some slack.
But the bush grew overnight Babs got wild.
Branches got ripped off and compost bin filed.
The bush produced flowers an offering off peace.
But it kept large thorns to tear at skin piece.
A truce was made while they fought diseases.
They battled as one thru multi pollen sneezes.
Beating the black spot with chemical warfare.
They agreed to a pact and signed to space share.
But now began Bab’s darkest hour.
To energise the bush and encourage good flower.
The bush was rewarded with fertilizer on roots.
But the double-crossing bush only grew branch recruits.
The new branches were trained to stealth attack.
When Babs walked past they tore at her back.
Flowers of peace soon fell to the floor.
Now began the last battle of this war.
The bushes last stand was an epic war fight.
With Babs sawing away all day with great might.
Beating each branch with dexterity and skill.
She even discovered her own lost window sill!
A cold war set in each boarder they'd not cross.
A battle of nerves to see who was to be boss.
Autumn approached the leaves turned yellow.
Near the end of the war the bush went mellow.
But it put up a great protest to the very last stem.
As Babs attack, wildly time and time again.
The bush finally surrendered and gave up its leaves.
Begging forgiveness while it grieves.
But Babs had had enough of the bushes false claim.
Planning her last action, she took careful aim.
A weapon of mass destruction Babs let the axe swing.
The bush was chopped up, nothing left of the thing.
The weapons of war in her garden shed Babs laid.
Then sat for the first time in garden she made.
She admired her work wondering at the cost.
Watching the sun slowly thawing the first frost.
Winter set in covering the garden in snow.
But deep under cover new shoots start to grow!