Half Term in the Park

The rugby team quarterback out for a run,
Watched and admired by two girls in the sun,
Whilst wild muddy children throw rocks in a pool,
Giddy with freedom from structure at school.

Old gentlemen curiously glance over fences,
To peek at allotments that tickle their senses,
And here come the mothers, pushing their prams,
Whilst pushing their theories on gin-flavoured jams.

Hand in hand couples, too scared to let go,
For fear of disrupting their shared status quo,
Queuing for green tea to sip on the wall,
Whilst posing with phones for no reason at all,

Dogs chasing balls by the cricket pavilion,
Scaring the pants off a passing civilian,
Toddlers with mothers, now queuing for loos,
Dripping soft ice cream on newly bought shoes,

Smoking teenagers, who let off some steam
by flicking their tab ends at flies on the stream,
Watched with great envy by young café staff
Who wish they were out too, and having a laugh.

Such is a day in the life of the park,
From ten of the morning,
To just before dark.

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