The Garden Path

Up the garden path I found a car,

It was entrenched in all the debris in a pool of water,

Frogs leapt out & lizards sunbathed in the 1960s Beetle,

I tried shovelling up the earth & liquid full of decomposing leaves,

But I was about to give up, so I called you on the telephone,

You came around & we started to uncover the motor machine.

These man-made products they don’t last, they disintegrate,

And other synthetic things that we wish to be rid of, they remain.

I brought a torch, you brought your toy boat, & we went back in the night-time,

I had my raincoat on, & while standing indecisively beside the pool,

We drank some of the tea you brought and we shrank down,

We jolted off the muddy shore, our spades as paddles,

And around the base of the car, we found an opening into the vehicle’s inky harbour,

These creatures were staring at us anxiously as we trespassed,

Bioluminescent aquatic things in little notches & water spiders dancing on the pond’s surface,

As we fall asleep with the singing of cicadas in the long grass beside the little swamp.