When will we see the clear blue sky again?

All living in a frightful fog of fear, always

remembering the long lorryloads of coffins,

avoiding and even distrusting ever familiar faces.

Where might they have been?

Who might they have been with?

What might they have touched?

Shopping become a hazardous trolleytrip,

checkout girl now avoiding eye contact,

worried that a wisp from some tainted breath

could overpower her and those anxious at home,

smile gone, not cheerily outgoing as before.

 

Is there a silver lining to this thick grey diffidence?

Think love-in-a-mist, not the lovely flower

but something essential to help us survive.

Later, perhaps, with all at last behind us

we will value more our former everyday pleasures and pursuits,

as well as friends, acquaintances and family,

now thankful for what once seemed unbearably monotonous.