Sunday morn dawned bright and cheery,
Not like me, my eyes were bleary.
What could clear this head of mine?
A walk in the park! I’m not too weary...

Off to High Street Ken by train,
Hunger strikes and I search in vain,
But then I spot a handy place,
“Soup and stick”- a bizarre name!

I enter Hyde Park and pick a spot,
(It’s getting really rather hot).
Noodles follow then a snooze,
I read a little, but not a lot.

I begin my venture ‘cross the park,
The swans are worthy of remark,
The path wends it way from west to east,
Monuments loom round every arc.

The Tour de France is also on,
For the lycra-clad cyclists, fashion’s forgone,
They zoom past me at 50 k-
I take a pic and wander along.

Flora and fauna now take over,
A cheeky squirrel sits by a clover,
Tall grass tickles at my ankles,
The air is filled with nature’s odor (!)

I’m now approaching Speaker’s Corner,
I get a ‘free hug’ from a man with a banner.
Angry voices raised in tough debate-
Mostly taking the role of ‘warner’.

An ice-cream soothes my battered ears,
(Not literally of course, that would be weird)
A big screen shows the Tour de France-
Bikes whiz past and I let out a cheer.

My feet are tired, I’ve had my roam-
I think it’s time to head for home.