The back garden has always been my safe haven.
Deep within the pages of a brilliant book I pause
between chapters, taking a sip of my cuppa, and
reflecting upon the simple pleasures within this

treasured space:

A gentle sunflower sprouts up, the first of the
season and eager to kiss the sun.

The grass would not appease the bylaw officers,
dancing with the gentle breeze.

No pavement in sight, as it should be, I reach
the worn out deck

where memories have stomped on its surface.
At the BBQ I requested

extra cheddar cheese on my burger, always
granted to keep my belly full.

The ashtrays are now absent, certainly best, I can
remember them full.

Lastly, I spot the mighty oak in the far left corner,
always a constant.

Eventually I get back to my book, but never
hesitate to allow my senses to wander around.