Today’s poem

CAR BOOT SUNDAYS

8am the gates are open Unpacking can commence, Buyers swoop, ready to haggle Offering just a few pence. Clothes are piled on grassy rugs, Some on wobbly rails, Bobbled sweaters, cocktail dresses Grubby wedding veils. Pasting tables groan beneath The weight of bric-a-brac, Seventies vinyl, Eighties tapes Obsolete 8-tracks. Remnants of a retiree’s home Displayed beside a van, Lacy gloves, postcards from Poole, Photos of someone’s gran. Souvenir mugs and plates Of royal celebrations, Long-forgotten jubilees, Weddings and coronations. A well-heeled mother and daughter Ply John Lewis wares, Unreturned ASOS fashions And winsome teddy bears. Queues are forming for cans of Coke, Burgers and chips with cheese, While a heavy aroma of bacon Floats on noontide breeze. The bargain hunters dwindle, It’s time to pack away, No one’s found a Moorcroft Or Clarice Cliff today. Next week they’ll all be back With broken bikes and scooters, Come rain or shine they will be there; The serious car booters. Ann Coward-Sale, St Albans, Herts.