Started back last summer with
a piece of bad news.
Why us?  Why now? What have we done
to deserve this?  But no-one is to blame.
And  you try and make the best of things.
You say "Nah, that can't be right!
They must've got it wrong!"
But they haven't.  
They most certainly have not.
For these are the end days.

And so from then on you try to
carry on as normal, whatever 'normal' is,
praying for some kind of miracle,
hoping against hope that one will be granted.
You smile like an idiot at strangers,
trying to be friendly, looking for support,
but looking plain weird,
your emotions in a whirl
and your feelings jumbled.
For these are the end days.

You go down the pub, have a beer,
play cards, laugh if you can,
but it's always there,
a shadow hanging over you
like the ace of spades,
poised to slice you in two.
You try and joke on social media,
post a little music, just to keep sane,
but your heart's not really in it.
For these are the end days.

How long do we have?  No-one knows.
And if they do, they don't answer directly.
You make your own daily forecast
in this new and strangely sad world.
Sunny skies one day, cloudy the next.
You have to stay strong whatever happens,
yet you fear the inevitable worst.
We are grateful we have good friends
to help us through.
For these are the end days.