Coronavirus Thoughts – from January 2021
The rain runs down my face,
But it does not wash away
The look of anguish, that has
Formed like a furrowed field.
My voluntary solitary, has
Become involuntary isolation,
And I feel the need to break free
And roam in the winter weather.
The virus, like a plague, is creeping
Closer every day towards my door,
Like giant invisible tentacles
In a cloud of pestilent particles.
There is uncertainty all around,
As the captain of our leaking ship,
Sails in and out of treacherous waters,
Causing fear amongst the passengers.
There are no lifeboats on-board
For dissidents to flee the ship.
With a narcissist at the helm,
We go where he, or the tide takes us.
Hope arises occasionally when
The sun appears on the horizon,
But it does not spring eternal on
The Tory Twilight Zone Cruises.