Mary Stevens Park
A poem about one of my favourite places in my hometown of Stourbridge in the West Midlands.
Featured on Places of Poetry
It's where I learned to ride my bike
and realised the kind of ice cream I like.
A 99, a Mr Whippy,
enjoyed all year round – no matter how nippy.
I've spent snowy days sledging down the hill,
crashing into trees, but smiling still.
Picnics with friends (okay, a meal deal from Tesco),
laying in the sun, basking in its glow.
I've hogged the swings and ruled the climbing frame,
had endless hours of fun and games.
From feeding ducks and walking around the lake,
to popping to the cafe for coffee and a cake.
There’s nowhere quite like it, this wonderful little space,
Mary Stevens Park, you are my happy place.