#freeverse
Waterhead Park, where they grow their own veg,
Where dog-walkers have their own track.
Here is the cafe where a welcome drink and cake await.
Forms donated by long dead folk, give you rest,
While a play park keeps the little ones happy.
A park for all seasons, spring, summer, autumn, and winter,
Pass by in colourful displays as each season gives way
To the next, and there is the tree where I received my first kiss.
The trees are mature and stand like stout guardians;
But the silver birches are so pretty, a favourite of mine.
Oh! But the years pass so quickly, as time hastens on.
Where oh where has the vitality
of youth gone?
Daughter, wife, mother and now grandmother.
Now I am nearer death than birth, the wheel turns.
All plants and trees have their seasons as do we humans.
The time will come for me to be reduced to dust.
Then, sprinkle me among the trees in Waterhead Park.
Let me fertilise them so they can grow after I've gone.
I'll need no headstone to mark my grave, no name on a bench,
With my glorious dust I will be part of my lovely Waterhead Park
©🦊VixenOfVerse, 2024
First Appeared on Commonword/Cultureword’s Oldham’s Poetry Map September 2024
VIXEN of VERSE 