Mowbray Park Poem by Paul Reed

The Sunday afternoon was drifting by
As we trod paths past arbors and nooks
And found shade under trees
Stood by lake and rippling stream
An ice cream van with no ice cream
Wondered about visitors from the past
In old creased black and white images
And how they spent their Sunday long ago
When the empty air would have reverberated
With their words and laughter
And their stroll back home after
Could they see us now retracing their steps?
The dainty feet of happy grandsons
Unfettered by such thoughts
Climbing wooden ladders and sliding slides
On dizzy roundabouts and park rides
With pigeons busily fretting around
Mallards dipping beaks but making no sound
And over us hung the Sunderland sky
With all those memories of years gone by