Office workers under trees, relaxing from their mornings.
Eating lunches, gossiping, yawning,
watching runners shuffling in the heat,
The suits are smug and shaded, the athletes somewhat jaded.
No more brown packets of sarnies and an apple.
Lunch has changed, we sit in judgement of what’s filling
For with chopsticks we now must grapple,
as egg and mayo no longer is top billing.
Footfalls on the paths, lazy bees in the flowers,
I could people watch for hours.
But my phone beeps, I unfold from my blanket
With a creak and a groan, perhaps I too should start to roam?