Alone in a Pandemic

 

He sat alone looking interminably sad

his mask had fallen beneath his chin

In his mouth a pipe clenched between his teeth

a trickle of blue smoke grew into ascending rings

The wooden bench was in the village square

surrounded by the usual High Street shops

An unopened newspaper lay on his lap

mostly unread with the usual contents of dread

Deep in thought he cared for little about him

the years had passed him swiftly by

He felt the imminence of death as a friendly shadow

which would often fall across his furrowed face

Drink had become more preferable than food

books were sought after instead of television

He no longer possessed a social life

his mind kept him comfortable and occupied

Time was running out with no sense of panic

a wreath of resignation had already been laid