A woman stoops to soothe a child;
old men with walking sticks explore
Spring’s miracle, or sit in awe
on benches in the sunlight’s mild
caress of too long indoored skin.
The young wear T-shirts, shorts and sandals;
smiles spread more rapidly than scandals –
life’s full of prizes we could win
now peace has come to bless this park
where birds are mating, bold as brass,
while bodies sprawl on soft, green grass
until the gates close, for the dark.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be
pleased to hear them.