My day's been idling
‘tween grim and gray
since Corona came by
and stole my Sunshine away
like a thief in the light,
sweeping my dreams
into a dungeon of despair.

hope flutters in the wind
on broken wing,
her salvage flight
upstaged by Ebola's evil twin.

what splendid deed
or need of man
have I not met
to earn this noose around my neck?

bare stems,
on trunks of fate
do quiver,
from fear of darkness
or lack of faith?
I cannot tell;
neither served me well
as you dear Sunshine.

soon these lungs two may fail
unable to inhale
or exhale without you.

my days thus spent,
idling from grim to gray,
since Corona came by
and stole my sweet Sunshine away,
shall come to end.

~ P