~The Poet’s Poet~
In the high grass of the haggard
It sits lost, a sad looking sight
Rusting, with tyres perished
That grey coloured Massey Ferguson.
It served us well, as children
Taught a couple of generations how to drive
Draw cocks of hay, reverse trailers
Follow a plough.
At all times under the watchful eye of granddad
And assembled farmhands
Health and safety those days
Consisted of proper meals
Freedom to roam
It stands now a relic of times past.
A gentle reminder of innocent times.
© Chris Black. February 2019