It was the gap in the hedge that he began to hate.
The front of the house was in a bit of a state.
He really needed to improve his estate.
It could really do with a proper update,
And about the problem he began to fixate.
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To do the chore he’d come up with a date,
But putting it off wasn’t up for debate.
A hinged barrier would be great.
He would have to consider its colour and weight.
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He knew it was something that he could create.
The size of the gap the width would dictate,
With timber strong, but still lightweight.
It needed to be smart, but not ornate.
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He knew he had a lot on his plate,
And he’d need to borrow tools from his mate.
So, the morning he started it was just gone eight.
He laboured away at a steady rate.
He worked all day and hardly ate.
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The hinges were oiled so they wouldn’t grate,
And the posts either side were perfectly straight.
To get it all finished, he could hardly wait.
By the time it was done it was really late.
He considered the finished job was first-rate.
He would write a short poem to celebrate.
But his hopes for this would soon deflate,
As his search for words began to stagnate.
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The exercise stalled and it began to frustrate.
He was stumped for a word that rhymed with gate!