In My Bubble
In my bubble, I'm deprived of human touch,
unable to express my love or hold hands.
I can no longer hug those I love so much,
and I only hope my grandson understands.
I'm in isolation; I've nowhere to go:
when asked how I am, I answer, 'I don't know.'
I'm starting to feel abandoned and all alone;
and sometimes cry, talking to friends on the phone.
From my balcony, I've watched the city die:
its parking lots, empty as cemeteries.
And when demand for masks overwhelmed supply,
folks started treating friends as adversaries.
The hearts of young partiers hardened over time:
they stopped wearing their masks, no reason or rhyme.
But today's news says vaccines are on the way;
and so, I wrote a poem to mark this day!
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2020
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