The lamps go out over Europe; when will they burn again?
The New Deaths rise inexorably in Italy and Spain
We leave the office, turn off the lights; stand alone in the dark
Gaze out on Luton’s business zone rather than Saint James’s Park

Soon we’ll learn to spell “furlough”, to self-isolate (so formal!)
Did we sleepwalk into this – JG Ballard meets normal?
Netflix, Fuze and Teams and Zoom, set yourself new goals
Clap the frontline staff at eight, then stockpile toilet rolls

Yet the weather’s kind and spring is here; it feels there’s nothing to fear
Magnified, blown-up, eye-catching - a virus which sounds like a beer
Lockdown will get tiresome, it’ll feel like a phoney war
Masterchef still on the telly, quarantine starting to bore

London Calling reminds us “the wheat is growin' thin”
Blinded like Day of the Triffids by an unseen foe within
Excel’s pop-up wards unnerve, beds laid out in a queue
Sepia-tainted photos: 1918 Spanish flu

Then the figures start to rise - thousands now and more
And, though they’re other people (no black cross on my door),
A feeling of displacement, we’ll meet some sunny day
“We’re all in this together!” doesn’t sound so blasé

How long will England’s hedgerows remain beyond the pale?
How long the pubs stay silent? Denied our pint of ale
The chronicles of history await the final score
A time when over Europe those lamps are lit once more

END