The humble Skip : A Monument to Miscalculation

[ToughButterCup]

Skips: I hate them. Specially this one: after ten years at this game, the last one (maybe)

And I love them (other peoples).

The day before they are picked up, I dream about them.

Sad Bastard

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Monument to ten years toil

You hold the decade carved from sleep,
Heavy tax of muscles, laughter, cash, and tears.

Buried in your belly, dark and deep,
Miscut rafters from the early days,
Hardened mortar from a novice phase, (I know how to mix mortar now)
Are stacked like layers of a lifetime spent.

Each rusted panel of your hollow frame
Has watched us age, yet stayed the exact same, (apart from the rusty bits)
A silent witness to a spine well-bent.

 

Ten winters bit our hands upon this ground,
Ten summers scorched the dust into our skin,
While every spare pound that our pockets found (well some of it was found down the back of someone else's  sofa)
Was swallowed by the walls we stood within.

Now blueprints yield to final, finished stone, ( well cladding aksherly)
And you receive the scraps of what has grown, ( to be fair some of it was rotten) 
The final clearing of a warrior’s field.

Go ride the lorry down the tarmac track,
Take all our toil, don't look back,
For out of waste, a home is finally sealed.

 

Still not signed off.  Stuff it.

Ain't gonna sell it anyway Little Miss Muffit. ( her from the LPA)

 

Now other peoples skips - I just love em.