I sat in the sun.
The ticking hands counting down,
the hour's freedom from the job.
Around,
the gardeners taste in line, mass and colour.
Looking to the resting place of brass and reed,
to across the park.
There a regimented promenade of trees.
Their misshapen leafy edges,
outlined the portraits of sleeping Napoleonic Generals.
I sat and watched the colours of the summer traffic,
either flow by,
or settle upon the grassed open spaces.
I noticed her enter the park.
Dressed in grey on a summers day.
Closer she came.
Her make up was perfect.
Almost brickwork like in its accuracy.
Guard up,
hair back.
She walked like people were watching.
Impenetrable, like a moving castle of grace.
Every step had more confidence than anything I could ever muster.
She walked right past,
her curves and beauty flowing.
I caught her scent,
so delicate,
the flowers blushed their bloom.
I watched with a heart of every beating clock in the world inside my chest.
She walked by and out of sight.
I never saw her again,
not on a summers tone or winters shade.
I admired her greatly,
my lady made of stone.
© ESHopkins 2015
