Through the park

Through the park

A boulevard of trees

In lines, feathered strides

Mark time in stubborn beauty

They are the sentinels of our views

As we travel through the park

On week-days in the rain

At week-ends in the sun

Always stoically in tune

So that dreamers can travel through

Oblivious in that beauty

Confronted by a gleaming, gilded statue

Of Diana in the pond, a watery roundabout

Around which in May white blossom

Will scatter scented parcels

Gifts to the grass and casual views

Rewards for travelling ever so slightly

Off the beaten path

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