Briskly rising from the ground
A beryl blanket all around
The unknown soul of the park
Lives with the bat, lives with the lark.
A gentle breeze shifts its slightly
The amber sun shines so brightly
Deer tracks scattered among the ferns,
Where the morning sunlight fiercely burns.
Days to months, months to years,
From summer to autumn it never fears,
The heart of the park it remains
'Till winter it occupies the plains.
Alas, the frost with its icy grip,
Controls the mass with its icy whip,
'Death to them' the frost cries
And with that Richmond Park dies.
Louis Sutclife (13 years old!)
'The Way'
vasha Tasha
