A Park Named The Queens
No blades of grass were there to be seen
until we walked the drab streets
to a park named The Queens
In childlike wonder we spent our day
each one a different game to play
Roly Roly down the hill
shrieks of laughter at every spill
We would take a drink from the fountains spray
let the metal cup clang it was another game to play
stand and gaze at the clock made of flowers
we all thought it could tell the hours
The well-known Parky with his watchful eye
knew every child as we passed by
the bell would boom its hollow sound
time to round up our own little gang
then home to back yards walls of grey
but to a child of the north
it had been a Holiday

Monica Drury (nee Jennings)