The bench for lovers

I saw Penelope and Vincent today. There is a park called the summer garden that an emperor designed to get women out of the house and into European dress/smoking/drinking and fun. I spotted them on the bank of the canal sitting on the grass under the row of trees. They were bathed in sunlight I'd never seen before, half way between rise and set, not yellow orange red or pink but somewhere ethereal and in between. At first glance I saw they were engaged in intense conversation, but as the barge I spied them from drew closer I realised they were not talking at all. They were locked in a gaze so intense I felt an intruder (and rightly so). I looked away and concentrated on the upcoming trees and bridges and gardens and the huge yellow summer palace. Somehow, though I was not bored by my journey, I could not shake them from my mind. Lovers on the banks of the river Moika.

by Penelope Heron a dear friend of mine