while above most are sleeping
in Olde London Towne
the night gardener I am
in the Underground
train operator stops
scurrying out into
the Tube stations
plucking weeds or
are they remnants
migrating from a lost empire
that arise from their footprints
quenching the thirst of graffitied flowers
watering can and my early morning meal
in my old army regiment backpack
as I nightly loop all eleven lines
was offered an electric lawnmower
but how could I get a fumed buzz
while reading Plath between
the pages & stops before dawn
let off at Kew Gardens
to my day position & see
carelessly herded sheep
that once held my job
along the Thames

Word and image
Terrence Sykes