Visiting Hyde Park
And Kensington Gardens
Just on a whim
One autumn day,
I read about the boy
With dolphin,
George MacDonald’s son,
Sculpted in bronze
By Alexander Munro.
England learnt from Italy.
Naked children, symbols,
A vital part of happiness.

Over 60 years ago,
Before I well remember,
My mother who was always young
Brought me here in pram and pushchair.
And 30 years later
Within the newly opened
Rusticated shelter,
I well recall
Another mother
Another boy
The start of something horrible.

Beside the Serpentine
Young lovers, patronised,
Appreciated, envied,
Disliked and disapproved,
And modern sculptures
Temporary exhibits
Klara Liden, Amish Kapoor.

Innumerable spaces
Of wet grass between the trees
Fallen conkers undecayed.
A sentimental journey
No one else would understand.
Older than the human life.


Coming back
To this same theme
Some time later,
Over a year
In early December
Entering the Gardens
From Lancaster Gate
In bright sunshine,
Wlaking, observing
That some leaves
Are still on the
Trees and more on the ground,
I note a newly opened
New addition to the gallery
The Old Magazine.

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