A walk in the park.

The heart of the city pulses with sonorous beat,
Whilst at its centre there is a stillness.
A stillness where a man sits
And contemplates the soft, grey day,
And the play of gentle light on newborn trees.

But do you ever listen to me?
Do you ever actually take any notice of me?

The ducks splash and quack their way
Round the lake, dodging boats being pedalled
By indulgent dads for holidaying sons.
And on the bench a man sits,
Eats lunch, then mounts his bike and rides off.

We have had this conversation so many times before,
And it makes no difference.
You agree with me, then nothing changes.

A toddler runs down the slope of the path
And is drawn to the gap in the wall,
Held back by kindly hands from passing through
And joining the ducks in the water.
In princess pink, she holds her mummy's hand tightly
And they walk around the lake.

Do you want to make this work, do you
Even care about me?
Is it worth trying again, and again, is
There anything left between us to save?

Lights flash, pastelled by the grey feathered spring
Fronds of cloud filtered sun, as the fair
Prepares
For another night of loud music and public
Enjoyment, and of candy floss and toffee apples.

It is easier to stay the same, to tolerate
From day to day to day to day the tedium
Of no-man's land that has grown between us.
To live our lives in monochrome.

Standing proud and foursquare over the trees,
Above the lake, watching the fair, and
Glinting a benevolent window-paned cornucopia
Of eyes on the people and boats that play
Around her skirts, stands the hall.

And I am not prepared to live my life in greys
And browns and mists and shadows.
I want to walk in the sunlight, and taste again
The ice cream sharpness of excitement, and love,
And to hold your hand in mine, because
You want me to.
If we can't do that again, then I think
That this day in this urban park,
In the still centre of the city's
Hurricane,
Will be our last together.

(c) 2ndwitch, April 14th, 2011