November morning

Alexandra Park looks splendid today,

As I pass bushes shaped like giant birds,

And trees painted an autumnal gold.

An elderly man struggles up the hill,

Followed by his beloved dog,

Content to be away from the four walls.

I stroll over star-sparkling morning dew,

As the sedate sea comes into my view.

Gloriously silver under the azure sky,

Somerset hills framing the horizon.

I rest on a bench dedicated,

To a man who died tragically young.

A lone drinker on the seat opposite,

Has a sad expression and bottle in hand.

Perhaps he's contemplating the past,

And the good times which were doomed not to last.

Yes, this is a fine place for reflections,

Light years from busy town streets,

A touch of winter's breathe in the air.

The war memorial is a poignant reminder,

Of the terrible futility of war.

But I adore the tranquillity here,

Golden leaves softly dancing in the breeze,

A final dance before the skeletal trees.

Guy Fletcher

Dan y Graig

Pantmawr

Cardiff