as I saunter as if in a dream,
the sinking autumn sun
illuminating golden leaves
on the tree by the quaint bridge
leading me to Dawlish Lawn.
It is quiet without the tourists,
just a drunk in the pavilion.
I come across the stump of a chestnut tree
transformed into a wooden throne
with swans engraved, I reside on it
and she takes my photograph,
a moment of magic that will surely stay
inside my soul...until my dying day.