Monday, 7 July 2014

Tom’s garden

The old broom head

like an elongated hedgehog

stoppers open the rickety driftwood gate.

 

The shingle path

winds its way through

the tumbled garden to the river’s edge.

 

The tree house

bereft of children’s play

majestically awaits the next generation.

 

Elderflower cordial

sweetens the stillness of suspended time.

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