Wadhurst Park; An Exiles Recollections

Wadhurst Park exists; a place out of time.
A singular house atop stepped, green terraces encompassed by wooded Sussex hills.
Warm, magical summer evenings; amber lights streaming through sheets of crystal onto tall, Moorish columns and tented canopy.
The murmur of dinner guest conversations from the drawing room;
Tiny tea lights glinting in the vastness of the orangery, reflected in cool marble floors.
Shadowy, secret places; Bright sunlit skies refracted in an ornamental pond, where orfe dart ‘neath green lily pads.
Silver birch and willow draping fragile fingers against vaulted roofs;
Whilst older denizens tower over remnants of a Gothic past.
Walled gardens, somnolent with the lazy hum of insects over fallen fruit;
The tinkle of water tumbling from the leaden lips of a Roman God, like voices of faery.
And far away, deer grazing by a lake, and all about, and farther yet, the woods and pastures of England.

Glenn Adams

Ashley Adams
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 12/03/2021

Poet's note: I worked at wadhurst park as a houseman. It was such a beautiful place I never forgot my time there and it holds a magical memory for me. I wanted to portray my feelings of nostalgia and loss of the time and place to me.
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