Quarantined
Quarantined
Waking up to this strange dream
First sight is the checkered ceiling
Then the antique bathroom mirror
I see old age and worried red eyes
I see another drawn day of breathing
My beard is out of control with grey
I am home now and not going out
I hear helicopters often in the sky
The morning time is escape time
The missus and me watch another one
Another end-of-the-world imitation
Just like ice milk; not the real thing
We sit and netflix the hours like sharks
Devouring phony time with no incisors
As with a glass vase holding heartbeats
We know dinner time is the best time
As another anxious nothing day slinks by
There will be kitchen trips for comforts
There will be basement sojourns for spirits
But no afternoon excursions to the shops
No possibility of even meeting stone statues
Inside this wooden box is where we must hide
Out of this window is as far as I can see
Listen
There is hopeful music in the distant rooms
There are praying voices behind the closed doors
Copyright © Stark Hunter | Year Posted 2020
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