The leaves: shaped like swaying storks, form an arch of roses and honeysuckle: around a void vacated by tiny red shoes: blue and black, lined up like immovable dolls: broken, by the door that shuts on its hinges: rusted, cold: new. Step out of the trees like two lovers, silhouettes lit up by the moon: that shadows their steps: like a tiger; waiting to devour their love. Cheeks red as strawberry sauce, lips round as the sun, huddle closer together; trample on the old daises, and the wilting petunias: eat the jam licked on each other’s lips.

Pattern tartan, woollen dresses: laced with white; and edged with money: make them out of a cottage-print: knit two outfits like a sleepy blanket; as it envelops the earth. Hold your hands: like new money; and gaze at the falling gate, and the invisible stars; tramp through the maze: and use weeds: tinted with canary and mould, to eat each other’s straw: to play each other’s saxophone, to defeat the moon.

Wander under the dark blue trails of sky, where dreams are eaten in the clouds: and cakes spill out of the penny-ridden holes; and kisses traced like fireworks: flame into the sky in a blaze of colours. Stroke the weather-beaten hand: soft; and kiss the sewn skin like butter sliding onto a pancake: golden; beautiful; at its end.

As lovers; illuminate your cottage romance through a sand-dusted gate: and sway over the flowers: that give way to its mud bed; as the stars ask for one more night: to dream.