We’re cooped up with ourselves. Alone together
for weeks or months until it’s safe to breathe.
The virus crosses continents like weather.
For now we’re stuck here, wondering when or whether
we’ll get back to our everyday routine.
We’re cooped up with ourselves, alone together,
the death toll rising, falling, like a feather
at the mercy of an idle breeze.
The virus crosses continents like weather.
As days drift by we find new ways to weather
boredom, frustration, solitude and grief.
We’re cooped up with ourselves, alone together,
and some of us are at the end of our tether,
and some of us are sinking week by week.
The virus crosses continents like weather.
Has life as normal vanished altogether?
Once locked up, can we ever be set free?
We’re cooped up with ourselves. Alone together.
The virus crosses continents like weather.
© Mark McGuinness 2020
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