There were pink and yellow flowers
In the hedgerows as we passed by;
After cycling for many hours
We were hot from the sun up high.

The plums we bought in the village
Tasted sweet as we rode along,
Transferred to a time and age
That vibrated a summer song.

We had stopped to pick blackberries
From the hedgerows along the lane
While below, we saw the ferries
Arriving and leaving again.

There were beech and oak and cob trees,
Elderberry, Rose hips and vines,
With nectar for the honey bees
Couched in the golden dandelions.

The wheels in the ruts were jumping;
I could hear as a thing apart
The regular even pumping
Of a sixty six year old heart.

To forget! How could we ever?
For as long as our two hearts bide,
The day we went out together
On that glorious cycle ride.

September 1991