Is this not Clapham Common?
I ask because I don't recall:
My memory is a narrow lane,
My geography, not so sharp,
So all green spaces in my life
I moulded into one.
Or could this be Wimbledon?
The walk is unmistakable:
From the station to the front gate,
As we draw closer, feel my heart,
Which seems to ache with appetite
To remember love.
Do we wander in Morden?
My brain is a green mixing bowl:
In multitudes of time and place,
There are two people, in a park,
Who learned to love forever by