When there is Wisteria

When there is Wisteria

Hanging low

Weighted with flowers

Creating secret bowers

Where garden furniture

Fits so well

I recall a Sunday afternoon

Taking tea at

Alexandra Palace garden centre

Overhung with a purple tumble

Variegated colours all a jumble

Sparrows and Finches

Flying in and out

Stealing crumbs from the table

A piece of cake if they were able

Until the renovation

Increasing revenue

The major motivation

But as much was lost as gained

The quaintness of old England

Thrown out with the Wisteria

In an ugly joust

For new money

Re-generation

New growth and gentrification

Re-positioning everything

As just another retail destination

Not a dream

Muswell Hillbillies

And Crouch Enders

Spending big-city wages

Filling the car park

With Chelsea tractors

Sullen faced teens with dreams

Of winning the X-Factor

Heads bent over the phone

Playing games on their own,

Rather than be embarrassed

With harassed parents,

And a Sunday idyll

Of flowers and plants

Is just another way to fill

The downtime

Between an all-day breakfast

Carrot cake and Sunday dinner

Which is the way of things

Wisteria is still a winner

Although poison to a cat or dog

Which is weird

But it is a smell you hope will linger

Long after the flower has gone

And all you have

Is a memory

Of a Sunday afternoon in June

Or a morning half a world away

In the middle of December.