Wind chime
With the name of Woodstock
A sliced up revolution, music of the spheres
Ping pong
On strung bound eco-plated pipes in the garden
Where the sun silhouettes the swaying laburnum
Where the bare blossom tree stands in defiance
Of the dovecot detail on the distant rooftop
Which sits proud and strong, cooing on the skyline
On the mantel piece
The ticking clock ticks
Tick tock, tick tock, ad so, ad so, ad so infinitum
Framed photographs and posters
A warm fire grate
A room rather full of mementos
This is the kind of space
The kind of peaceful restful place
Where one's cup of tea could so easily go cold
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