I sat on the flint wall
Under cherry blossom
Blue sky and gentle breeze
Ginger cat strolling

My glasses hit the ground
And Frank trod on them
The bin bag was torn open
Revealing yesterday's curry

Blackbird intrepid
Gull keenly screeching
Pigeons saving the West
And chicken tikka madras

Crystal Meth and Black Eyed Peas
Paul McCartney wading through mud
Cherry blossom quivers
In the mild caress of a benign wind

The blue door is painted well
But is rotting fast
Only it rots fast for years
And for two weeks under a beautiful pink parasol

Old fire guard and broken pots
Uncle Ben's burnt rice
And fried lice
Stirred with a pink petal suprise

Big pebbles from the beach
With monsters in permanent ink
And A4 lists of garage bands
With potential from a few years back

Humming a nonsensical tune
Under the blush canopy
With a mug of putrid green vile liquid
In my electric petal wonderland

Sunday morning with strong muscles
And a crazy coloured goat
I travel the flinty highway
To the seat under the cherry blossom

There I feel in touch with the three planes
The floor, the middle and the sky
Blistered feet and pudgy waist
With my head in the clouds of smog.

But through the haze
In the middle distance stands
A small creature, a human
My seven year-old son, Saint-Jeanne, in a toga

"Mama" he says soflty
"Look at the blossom of the cherry,
"It is beautiful"
And I hug him.