Poetry – Everything is on the skids.

Everything is on the skids.

 

Can’t go to a gig or visit the theatre

Go to the cinema or our local eater.

 

Can’t meet my friends or hug my kids

The whole of life is on the skids.

 

We have to stay indoors on our own

But really – we mustn’t moan!

 

The air is sweet and the sun shines

We’re still alive and feeling fine!

 

Opher – 15.5.2020

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