All along the mud streaked bank
Gracious trees stand high
They know nought of human things
Though we live so so nearby

A breeze catches in the dangling fronds
Whispers escape the leaves
For nearby fallen detritus
The living green leaf grieves

A swallow darts to dodge the dusk
Defeated, closes her eyes
A couple close embracing look
About them at demise

The park is much forgotten, oh,
The gardener lives nigh
But at the volume of the work
Lets out a weary sigh.