A draught of fallen leaves,
dead and swept away by the witches broom.
Tread the loose and steep path of cockle shells,
from here you recognise
the vulgar satellites pinned to walls
like rosettes and beyond the roofs
a curve of bay facing the tepid sea;
the park creeps through the night,
dust of stars cover
squabbling birds in a caged tree,
eyelids droop over
polite lawns stretch in the darkness,
whispering that it is a child's world.
Note: Cwmdonkin Park in Swansea, near Dylan Thomas's home, played a major role in his imaginative recreations of childhood.