Summer Idyll
Based on the garden we had at
Fir Tree,
And exactly as everything there used to be.
Except -
I never played a guitar in my life,
Nor claimed a film-star for a wife.
Then come to think, the cat we had was black,
And peace was most apparent from its lack.
But we can all do what we wish in dreams.
From book to barrow, nothing is what it seems.
The cat that killed the bird has sheathed its claws,
And music modulates to a
magical pause.