A park, a book and a nightingale.

....... of love

Tell me about the park.

Why?

I want to know.

It’s just a park.

You went there, it must be good; tell me.

I sat on a bench and read some of my book.

And?

There were two dogs, they knew each other, they were playing chase – one was a white scotty, the other a golden spaniel.

I thought you were reading your book.

I was, but I saw the dogs.

And?

Two people came in on their moped, one had a white helmet.

And the other?

I don’t know. I think they knew the owner of the dogs and went to say hello, I didn’t see them leave. Two girls came.

Ah!

What do you mean ‘ah!’?

You noticed them!

I noticed the white helmet and the dogs too.

Tell me what they were wearing.

One had black trousers that were split open, her legs were showing. She had a pack on her back.

You were looking at her bum.

Wasn’t.

Were. What about the other?

No.

No what?

I didn’t notice her bum.

Ah!

There it is again.

Anything else?

The sunset over the rooftops and the bird.

Which bird.

It was in the tree above the bench where I was sitting and reading; it might have been a nightingale. The song was majestic. She was still singing when I left.

She?

Possibly.

Why did you leave?

Dusk was settling, I could no longer see the words clearly; besides, I had finished a chapter.

Is the bird still singing?

I could open the door and tell you.

Ok.

No………………………………………………. But the girls are still there.

 formerly published in The Archives.