Virus
Looking out the window, straining hard to see.
Searching for the virus,
trees are all I see.
I know it’s out there somewhere,
I know it’s after me.
Determined to destroy me,
or that is what it seems.
No breeze among the trees.
They must be looking too.
They know it’s hiding out there. What are they to do?
Copyright © Hal Deats | Year Posted 2023
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