Heaven was 1977.
See how the Vauxhall Viva rusts aside shooting rhubarb,
How the shed tumbles in golden creosote,
A gate latches with a clunk and there I stand on pebbledash shed tile,
Pushing red Raleigh Grifter to shed with the family rides.
A cat slinks towards a Whiskas tin a rattling under winding can opener and I am back in 1977.
Heaven was 1977.
Vicky Kingsford was by my side.
Sun played on my home and I was in heaven.