Preston Park Poem by Paul Reed

The removal of the current gloomy shroud,
A momentary glimpse of the joyous past allowed,
To run over soft grass, fed by the sun,
Knowing that our day’s work was done;

An unexpected slippage of the seismic plates,
A brief respite from the cruel fates,
Light shone through a pin-prick, a tiny perforation,
Scorching a hole in duty and subjugation;

A day spent together as the minutes unwound,
Carefree we ran, towards the evening bound,
A dewdrop of happiness in a cold, grey sea,
A memorable day that was meant to be;

To rest against a tree trunk that had survived the wrath
Of winters and wars and the aftermath,
A solid foundation on which to build upon,
For it will still be there when we are gone;

And the gentle slopes caressed our feet,
So used to harsh and unforgiving concrete,
The glass house with walls collecting the light,
But soon to cool ‘neath the drape of the night;

The eager boaters, launched unafraid
To sample the waters that eddied and swayed,
The picnic cloths cheerfully spread askance,
For the family feasts prepared in advance;

Such innocent pursuits under peaceful skies,
A goblet of hope slurped in surprise,
Before we return to the disordered affray
And left behind this untroubled day.