There is a space in Mayfair,
Not far from Hanover Square,
Where we walk when the sun darkens,
That’s called Mount Street Gardens,
Where paths lead us often
To find a new affair.

First time we cycled off Trafalgar Square,
Shooting past streets on a bike by funfair,
It was early spring and the leaves were green,
When we stopped for a coffee in Ole & Steen,
You ate a Dutch pastry shaped like a dove,
And that day I was first to speak about love.

Another time it was autumn and the weather was fair
When we strolled past the gate, garden and mansion
And an English Church that I forgot to mention.
We walked by the redwoods after glasses of Hennessey,
And sat on a bench left by American embassy.
We exchanged a kiss yet this time I didn’t say anything.

And last time I passed the Gardens with friend,
Until we took a wrong turn and met a dead-end.
“People imagine such place when they think of London”.
Neither a kiss nor confession can ever be undone,
Perceptions are memories of how we see us;
We stroll through Gardens until we bypass.

05/11/2022