Peter Thabit Jones
Peter with a stained glass window featuring his poem KILVEY HILL. Run your mouse over the picture for more details.
THE EMPTY PARK
Previously in Manifold.
                                     There is something sad about swings that are still,                                      On a dull day (the sky a pavement-grey),                                      No-one rides the slide,                                      The roundabout is a crown left by a giant.                                      The benches wait                                      Storybook colours,                                      It is all so quiet,
                                     Unused, waiting for movement,
                                     Waiting for play.
                                     The spider-web is stuck in silence;
                                     The slip of screams down to breathless smiles.
                                     For mothers with prams.
                                     The chained swings sit in green scaffolding.
                                     Like the time when the children of Hamelin
                                     Followed the Pied Piper.