I STROLLED past palm tree

To the sound of a tennis game

On that sedate last August Saturday morn.

I wandered around Alexander Gardens

Admiring a hedge shaped like a bird

And a wooden sculpture of an eagle.

Butterflies flickered under a blue sky

As a girl and her do passed on by.

Some of the benches had known better days

But the park was beautiful now

Flowerbeds with vibrant colours

And roses waving in front of the War memorial,

A poignant reminder of sacrifice

From terrible wars of last century,

The names of young men printed on the stone

And then I heard a pleasant church bell tone.

A father spoke gently to his baby

In the fine little black pavilion

As I observed the placid brown channel

With a tanker drifting slowly across.

I reflected amongst daisies and blackbirds

Who gathered next to the Memorial

Quite unconcerned about each soldier’s death,

The wind carrying a hint of autumn’s breath.

Guy Fletcher