Sat on the real stone steps
Sheltered by the Hawthorne and by the Oak
From the prevailing wind
Or should it be
Sheltered by the Bougainvilleas
From the ever fragrant breeze
Either way the sun shone
And the gardener mowed the grass
With his rather noisy eight-bladed machine
The children
Now as then and then as now
Engage with the sculptures
Perhaps see something of themselves
Reflected in the works of art
See something of their future see something of their past
And the visitors from near and far away
Jostle with all of a vacation's excitement
They hold hands as they walk down the pathways home
