On the red ferry, workers,
shoppers, children, people
with worries, laughter, gossip.
The ferryman looks tired.
A baby cries to the gulls.

Hauled on its chain,
busy in our busy city,
the ferry goes on its small
important journeys,
back and forth

across the water.
Night falls, and in darkness
the old church bell,
always the same, never
the same, here to there
the black ferry rides.

My darling, why
didn’t you meet me
on the other side?
You said you’d love me
forever and a day.

Aura, AmosLAB 2018