Remote in a Cumbrian village,

removed and adrift as instructed,

I have become a modern Major Tom,

floating with the tins and toilet rolls,

bouncing off the ceiling, walls and floor.

 

Behind glass, I message Planet Earth,

well placed for views in virtual space,

sitting in a semi, playing spot the Herdwick,

clapping frontline health service warriors

and other admirable key role heroes.

 

Redacted bodily from the daily pages,

features airbrushed out of the foreground,

I fade from the centre, become peripheral,

hours filled with pap, pills and thermometers,

hand sanitiser and mailshot clickbait.

 

Feeling detached, isolated, lonely,

mind blown on this side of the veil,

I am a solitary star man on the edge of it all;

Planet Earth is still blue, dear David,

but it’s awfully quiet these days.

 

 

Picture credit: adapted from an original by Ktklin on wikcommons