Finding grapes in Staunton Road ...

My mum asked me to go with her around the garden - we walked down the curving gravel path, stepping off the small patio - 

Earlier, I'd mowed the lawns - my mum had watched me, sitting in her folding chair - 

My dad was asleep indoors, in his armchair, dreaming of vivid skies - there he was, not yet twenty, stepping onto the foredeck of a cruiser - the air was scented with cloves and sandalwood - 

My mum, perhaps, was remembering the school for soldiers' daughters - scarlet colonels would give her half a crown if she could recognize a regimental cap badge - on Sundays, the girls would venture across the Heath in giggling crocodiles - 

We left the garden, wandering slowly around the garages - 

We saw some grapes, hanging in purple clusters over a wall - 

It was like finding a paradise next to a Poundland - over the wall, I saw a secret garden, cloaked by wisteria and vines - 

My mum ate one of the grapes - further along, the wall was covered with an arras of ivy - 

We saw a long arm of bramble, jewelled with blackberries -  

I imagined Havant being swallowed by greenery, the parked cars hidden by joyous flowers -  

15.00

October 5 2014

Staunton Road

Havant