Monday Afternoon by the Welsh Harp. (Rewritten).

Making love in the park was not a good idea
However romantic the notion may have seemed
Before we put the idea into practice.

The cool October breeze was always going to be a problem,
But the squawking of the Moorhens had never been so loud,
And empty glades mysteriously fill with people
When privacy is looked for.

Our quiet tryst by the local reservoir
Felt like a stop off at a concrete lay by,
And the distant clank of cranes on the new estate
Came nowhere close to rivalling Tchaikovsky
However much you talked about Swan Lake.

That nosey Spaniel with the sodden paws
Cut short our interest in the great out doors,
But when we got home to an empty house
We quickly settled down on the settee
To ginger cake and mugs of Earl Grey Tea.
This proved relaxing, completely free of strife 

So unlike our awkward take on country life.

And the old gas fire hissed out a blast of heat
That frazzled naked stomachs, thighs and feet.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 9th. - 12th. 2019. - December 12th. 2021.