There are days

There are days

When pictures

Are ready to be painted

Impressions of happiness

Footprints

On an empty beach

Church bells

Peeling over green fields

As a morning unfurls

The sky

Argues the toss

With a procession

Of bellicose clouds

A joust

For primacy

When Heaven is king

Dog walking

Is a pleasure

Not a profession

Greedy terriers

Take the biscuit

As pointers sniff

Out the game

Partridges scatter

Clearing grandiose trees

Older than Christmas

Paramours hide

Beneath the canopy

Of an old Oak

First loves

Hold hands

On park benches

The smell of baking

Travels across the meadow

From an open window

The sea shimmers

In the distance

Imagination

Takes you there

And you remember

When it happened before

There were always

Days like these.