Walking In The Garden Square
Shady aisles of russet trees,
by David Taylor
rustle in the autumn breeze.
Fallen twigs and conkers too,
line the path as I walk through.
Golden sunlight strikes its rays,
weakly through a clinging haze.
Commuters walk with cases held,
students talk of lessons told.
Pigeons strut on leaf strewn grass,
nervous squirrels scamper past.
Traffic quietened by the wind,
goes around, cannot come in.
I stroll along the tarmac path,
watch as many lives come to pass.
Remember times from childhood years,
recall happiness and heartfelt tears.
Feel sad about those times I lost,
when heart was frozen like winter's frost.
And then I remember You,
the sap inside, the glint of dew.
An ever present spring,
the joy in me, in everything.
That which I most oft' forget,
and that which never has regret.