Suburban Summer

The city lying in a daze
quieter than at midnight
rocked gently in a haze
of shimmering on black tarmac -
pavement hot to barefoot touch.

Sun glinting on shining glass
in spiralling reflection,
casting prisms on the grass
of gardens lulled by bee and mower
the infinity of suburban summer.

pottering in the garden shed
Tiny stirrings of family life
children still have to be fed -
the alluring sound of icecream van
the counterpoint to kitchen smells

Days too perfect in memory
and endless enigma of nostalgia
painful in unattainability;
yet there have been skies this blue
and hours of dreaming peace.

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