A roiling sea of jet black clouds
Masked the sky speckled with stars
Waves rise and take their form
Then crash back down on bone white sand
Wind howls, up palm trees
Forbidden treasure glints and gleams
Billowing sails catch the wind
A rickety boat rides the waves
Its tossed and turned
And pummelled and pounded
Right back down to soft white sand
Two black boots
Jump on down
A crinkled map is clutched In hand
An x splashed on in ****** red
Will lead the boots to jewels and gems

To fight till last with no tomorrow's store,
They bicker loud and bite amongst themselves
And chew upon the papered spoils of war.
The panic breeds! A newer virus spawns:
Contagious fear, no mask could filter out
And sends them running fierce; it's frantic pawns,
'Till barest bares the shame to linger 'bout.
As paper, food depletes it's end of day;
Disgruntled many leave and wane their shop
With curse upon their lips, here not to say!
Then back again new beasts that cannot stop.

Yes I proclaim here's me: oh the wiser!
'Wait, No! Hands off, that's my sanitiser!"