Taking a photo of workmen in Chapelfield gardens

I wanted to take a picture of these four workmen;
they were wearing hi-viz vests that said "Ardmore
on the back. Three of them were sat on a bench,
facing the pagoda; they had the sort of haircuts
that let you see the shape of their skulls.
The fourth man was having a rest, laid out
on the path, eyes scrunched against the sun.
I was lying on the grass behind them, the symmetry
was perfect: the pagoda in frame, Ardmore
Ardmore Ardmore, red and yellow flowers
and a man sleeping at brunch-time.
I lifted my camera up and, immediately,
the resting man stood up and asked me if I had a problem.
I said: "No, mate, which was a bit of an assumption.
He came over to speak to me; his colleagues looked over
their shoulders to watch. He had his hard hat under his arm.
I tried to explain about the symmetry
and the perfection of tired men
and that he was lying on the floor
like some Fifties starlet on top of a grand piano
and what with the old world charm of the pagoda
and the cans of Super Tennants on the bandstand¦
"It just seemed to me to be beautiful, I said.
"You are beautiful, I said.
I said it quiet enough so that his colleagues couldn't hear.
"You should have asked, he said.
"Sorry, I said, putting my camera away. "Sorry."
He still had the sun in his eyes
and I had my notebook.