Stolen Hour: Escaping to Parsonage Gardens for Lunch Break

A Stolen Hour

A brief poetic escape from the noise of office life into the quiet of Parsonage Gardens, finding a fleeting moment of solitude before returning to work.

I disembark from the hot desk,
the din of voices & ringing phones.

Snatching my jacket, I trot down
winding stairs secreting

from the municipal building.
The public square I speed along

not noticing the obelisk today.
Making way to Parsonage Gardens

surrounded by terracotta houses,
I place myself at the picnic table

then expedite 20 minutes left
before arching back.

Back to Identity, Self & Fragmentation

More from the archive:

Look in the Reverse Mirror

City Boy Lost in Nature

Time’s Relentless Passage