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Personal Note:

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Poem

In the beginning, it was not too bad

Stay at home

Do not travel out

If you must stray, mask your identity

Distance yourself socially, seventy-two inches

An arbitrary amount

No visitors allowed

Lock your doors

My silver hair reveals my risk

Essentially, I am not needed

I am alone

It was not too bad, in the beginning

Hidden in my favorite chair with a bottomless mug at my side

My fingers flash across the keyboard

Dreaming the Great American Novel

Sans endless interruptions

Straying from favored chair to over-stuffed sofa

I binge watch romantic comedies,

(Tell no one, I plea)

and apocalyptic sagas

 Until now becomes tomorrow

Potato chip dust covers my shirt

Being alone, pants are optional

Alexa serenades me with golden oldies

As I eat breakfast for supper

Meat without veggies

Chocolate morsels topping every meal

Two glasses of brandy

Shame on me

It is not too bad 

Being alone

Days grow into weeks

Sunday or Monday

Who really knows?

My novel untouched, glares accusingly at the vacant chair

In my remoteness, I have misplaced the remote

No images

No sounds

Alexa left me too

My cupboard is bare

I wander out, donned in anonymity

Seventy-two inches has never looked so far

No meat

Heaps of veggies

If I must

I return Home

Carrying my bag, wearing my disguise

Shuffle, shuffle

Day seventy-two

Alone begot Loneliness


Painless labor

It was not too bad

Before

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