In the dappled shade of the park

In the dappled shade of the park,

with shadows dancing on grass,

with a book and its riveting tale

I wait for time to pass.

With twittering birds in the trees,

and laughter drifting on breeze,

with sunshine tickling my feet

I relish my life of ease.

As a wattle-bird twigs its nest

with its eye on me and my face

a breeze gently ruffles my hair.

Yes, this a favourite place.

As voices wander across

my conscious, languid mind,

contentment washes me through.

I’m at one with all humankind.

Strewn on the grass around

and seated on benches of wood

are people of every kind,

a parkland neighbourhood.

But away on a lonely seat,

supine, in a dirty coat,

is a human flotsam girl

in a world estranged, remote.

Her shoes are rough and holed,

her head on a towelling rag.

Asleep, her possessive hand

clutches a shabby bag.

The neighbourhood glances her way

then turns to their pressing tasks

of eating and tweeting and rest

and polishing up their masks.

I conform to the unwritten script

and cherish my well-earned time

alone in the sun with my book,

for relaxing is never a crime.

The complacent part of my heart

says she’s no business of mine,

tells me to leave her alone

and keep to my side of the line.

In the dappled shade of the park

with some privileged time to pass

I think my self-centred thoughts

on the comfort of well-mown grass.

The sun’s rays sooth my mind,

and erase the confronting scene.

Like a cat I stretch and release

and immerse myself in the green.

© Ellen Carr 2012

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