Matterhorn

Oh Matterhorn, I loved you           

Long before you were a bar:
your giant meringues,                 

         clammy sandwiches
                  the secret garden out the back;
rolled-up pancakes filled with cream, 
vanilla slice.

In the morning, your pavement-blackboard read,
Bottomless filter coffee
home-made scones
Mince on Toast.

Every evening as I passed,
heading home 
        through 1980s streets
someone had changed it 
              to "mice".