THE wooden eagle guards the black pavilion

Where a striking woman sits with faraway eyes

As if a tragic heroine in a movie.

Alexandra Park looks grand today

Under a blue spring sky with a cloud

Seemingly turning into a phantom.

I stroll past the pond in this sea of green

And the aviary enhances the scene.

The roses are not yet in bloom

But flowerbeds boast a rainbow of hues

And daffodils wave goodbye in the soft breeze.

I wander back to the war memorial.

The woman in the pavilion has now gone

Perhaps she’s a ghost paying the park a call

Or maybe... never existed at all.

Guy Fletcher

Pantmawr

Cardiff