Late summer, just outside Heathrow
Streets full of homes making little room for gardens
They must find a new place to grow
Somewhere where children need to venture
Out of their boundaries, in order to pick them
They fill bushes and early bloomers fall to the ground
Their luscious red overpowering the dewy wet grass
I built a patch far from the clothes lines and the parked coups
I walk there everyday in the late summer, just outside Heathrow
And I drop my berries into my wicker basket
Some only make it as far as between my teeth
It is my escape, I gather enough
So that when I go back to the lines and the coups
I can imagine I’m sitting in my sanctuary
Far from my boundaries