A Picnic in Eden

Let’s go back to a paradise mislaid.

Pack a hamper with fizz and figs

anything but apples, however tempting.

We’ll take a blanket; the gardener’s gone,

the grass is long and the orchard’s strangled

by thorny briars, brambles and beer cans.

We’ll rent a convertible, like the one we had

that’s now a classic, for sale in Cotswold garages

at a price we’d never have afforded.

I’ll pack your coral-tinted spectacles,

we’ll shoot polaroids of forget-me-nots,

make daisy chains and fail the buttercup test.

We’ll watch the sun go down and shiver,

when the breeze blows blossom from the trees,

and all along the way we came and went today.