A world of cardigans, slippers and pipes is no more. 
Afternoons in hopeful May 
In the potting shed 
Where young bean shoots and a short coiled hose,
Hardened aside a half-used box of bonemeal
Half the size of a cereal packet, 
Have frozen and decayed like a faded photo.
Now there’s a new family of prisoners here,
With laptops and Gameboys, never sleeping deeply, 
Their oversized screens flickering into the small hours. 
Look outside. Look. 
The lawn is overgrown. 
Sticky darts are half-grown on long thick stalks.  
And never again will our own childhood
Or our awareness of the old be alerted to
Midday lunch of liver, bacon and new potatoes 
As we run back in after route-inventing around 
The now-drooping tulip bed and hidden corners 
Where imaginations once ran wild.
That box of dry bulbs, those green wire ties 
And labels with faint-inked rose names, 
Their frayed string long lost, are now no more. 

Nigel Davison is an editor, writer and linguist. He has published two recent poetry collections. His illustrated history of Bygone Perivale (2020) was a bestseller. He is also a composer who releases progressive music under the moniker Star of Sirius.
Poetry submissions to thursdaypoems@gmail.com