My Manderley
( Inspired by the first chapter of Rebecca )
Last night I dreamt
That I returned to my old home…
The garden that I had once cared for
Had been allowed to let nature roam
Overgrown and wildly sown
Whichever way the wind has blown
My old garden is now nature’s home
I pass through the old iron garden gate
Where bold red roses congregate
Never tiring of conspiring
To climb ever higher
And yet higher still
And hanging over
The top until
They flop and drop
Their flaming faces of fire
Fox gloves grow tall and proud
All along the perimeter wall they crowd
With nature’s permission allowed
The magnolia tree
Can be found just where it used to be
And on the ground its carpet
Of pink and white petals fallen,
Loose and free
Flowers I recognise
Appear full grown in size
Rebelliously they rise
Through cracks in the pavement patio
Where they are not meant to grow
The grapevines for making wine
Have climbed becoming entwined
And fruit in the orchard is over ripe
From time and sun-shine combined
Everything is weaved together as one
Threaded and embedded and overrun
Fastened, laced up, sown and spun
Nature’s work cannot easily be undone
The stone bench where I once used to sit
Is now covered and smothered
With moss, slime, lime and grit
No longer inviting me to sit down on it
While milk thistles crowns
Rule all around as they claw
The garden away from me
Up-rising under nature’s lawless laws
And nettle barriers bar me
From further entering the grounds
Only this time I am free
To let it be itself, to let it be
In wild abandon and disorder
From border to border
The garden is no longer mine
To control and order
My dream is but a homesick remedy
Returning me on an invite
To a wishful memory
Destined to expire
At the end of the night
For when daylight
Takes over from the dark
My visit is over
And once again
My garden is paved over…
To become a concrete car-park
Published by Forward Press
inside the anthology
'Sweet Memories Are Made Of This'
and also by the local arts magazine 'Mock The Flock'.
