Kingsley – your poem did not record. We’ll do it again.
Squelching through Brockwell Park, I can see
Dogs barking in the wind
Cats hiding from the weather
Leaves falling like feathers.
Walking through Brockwell Park, what can I feel?
The ground is soft and muddy
You can skid in the mud on your trainers
I squish conker shells and take out the smooth shiny conkers.
Walking through Brockwell Park, what can I hear?
Autumn’s song playing in your ear
Parakeets swooping through the air
Leaves crunching under your feet.