Greacen026

Spring in Hyde Park

Time is an island now, here on the stiff grass
Where footsteps falling into night pass and re-pass;
This is an island, from the day of dry routine,
A time when being hardens into Has Been.
0 every way we look lights ring us round
Pushing the edge of darkness in. Sound mimics sound.
Across the evening park float random noises
Of bus and taxi, soft hints of lovers' voices.
And as night jollies in around this little island
We walk like searching children on a tideless sand.