I’ve realised how fond I am of Greenhall,
With its majestic old trees, proud and tall,
A timeless place of beauty and wonder,
With chestnut trees in October to plunder.
I’m filled with nostalgia as I remember the days,
As a child playing there, on the grass I’d laze.
Or pestering parents for the pitch n putt,
Collecting clubs from the wee wooden hut.
The unkept toilets next to the shop,
Wi its creaky door held up by a prop
That shop was special and sold ice cream
Ginger beer in bottles, we were living the dream.
The nature trails were a welcome addition
Shame that the railings fell out of condition,
The bunkers were added filled with soft sand,
On the sloping green grass, wide open land.
The tree lined avenue, white kerbside stones gleaming
Squirrels, birds, foxes the wildlife was teaming
Now those stones are dirt covered, ill fitting
The woodland only teaming with refuse fly tipping.
Wooden steps to the river, some small, some bold
Led to the viaduct, a sight to behold.
I remember roundabouts, witches hat and swings
Cycling the park like racing champ kings.
And let’s not forget winter, snow up to hedges,
The excellent slope made just for our sledges.
Childhood fun , can you tell I was keen?
Ps I sledged on that spot well into my teens!
It’s a dog walkers dream, safe and serene,
Dogs love the space, grassy and green.
I walk till I’m tired or until it gets dark,
That’s how much I love that wee park!
Paul Veverka, 2012
