Tired with its dogs and doves
the park’s distracted tunes
sprawl across the littered green,
these slow and tedious afternoons.
And there a brassy serenade
and here two lovers come to rest.
Beneath a pampered laurel tree
he leans his head against her breast.
And round and round the waltzes go:
smeared lollies in a bag;
the formal tunes and gardens merge:
the light exhausts, the music drags —
and sleep condemns the lovers’ eyes
the gardens blind … He draws her near
and puts his arm beneath her back
and whispers darkness in her ear.
© Vivian Smith