An early warm spring day, a rare lunch,
Sitting on a bench overlooking the river.
People pass by.
A young boy shouts out ‘are you having a good time?’
I hold my thumb up to him and he laughs with his friends.
Somehow the food tastes nicer.
A gull cries as the river curls in its struggle to reach the sea,
I wonder where the boats are going and dream of another time.
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 