It’s not a lie to bring them inside
and pretend spring

with central heating
drying sad eyes and itching skin
at least they offer a semblance
of a truth balefully missed

though the distant future
still promises such
current hands are hamfisted
in the art of wish fulfilment

My friend, I miss you.
I miss the tingle of anticipation
that you’ll be coming through my door.
I miss the sway as we squeezy hug,
that charges and restores.
I miss the pretty notes of your perfume
the grey that sweeps your hair.
I miss saying that I like your top
and the brimming smiles we share.
Or saying, ‘Oh, you naughty thing!’
as I take the cake and wine,
you always do, though you always don’t
really need to bring.

I miss your natter, the laughs and snorts,
the ranging chats and views.
I miss hearing of your children
and all our other buddy news.
And when you’ve gone, the afterglow;
the altered atmosphere.
You left me more than cake, you know,
the joy that you were here.

When life is locked down in a single place
We’re strapped in chairs but seem to run for miles
Our minds explore a vast and boundless space

I flit from call to call at frantic pace
My children print and scan their homework files
When life is locked down in a single place

I read, I write, I learn new tracks and trace
the course of Covid racing through the miles
Our minds explore a vast and boundless space

From day to night to day a carapace
cocoons us; doctors pace up ailing aisles
When life is locked down in a single place

I drill, I dream, I seek and find headspace
And call loved ones to see their smartphone smiles
Our minds explore a vast and boundless space

We run, we rest, we’re cursed, we’re blessed, we race
to live, survive and thrive in countless styles
When life is locked down in a single place
Our minds explore a vast and boundless space

Peach lingers as sunlight falls
  and behind, has even painted
      grey clouds happier
        and I try to inhale seven,
                                exhale eleven,
      but the frantic black-wire
                        gut-froth won’t tire
                     today

How do I show you
what we’ve shared before,
but in this dazzling new light

that beams the buildings purple and the waves orange,
Those gentle pushes and playful wordplay,
All those mindless hours and miles of beach?

How do I tell you
I want us to be more than just
outlaws in these empty streets?

Is now a better time than ever?
Or has boredom kicked at the time we have just got back on our feet?

The World is all forlorn
As New Covid is born.
Time to frown,
We are getting locked down.

Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine
We hear your cavalry bugle call.
Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine
If you don’t work, the writing’s on the wall.

So many dead, it’s hard to bear,
So much menace in the air.
Everyone tired of this stuff,
So many folk having it rough.

One Lockdown was very tough
Having three is more than enough.
Children getting schooled at home
By parents who are on the dole.

Americans fight amongst themselves,
Instead of putting food on the shelves.
Brits have been distracted by Brexit,
Arguably a mistimed exit.

Last March I asked
Will this last a year?
Well the time is coming –
It’s getting near.

That vaccine surely gives us hope
But where’s our second jab?
No more playing rope a dope,
This chance we have to grab.

No jab at all for me,
As I am sixty eight.
I’ll have to wait and see
But am prepared to wait.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\1\2021. First two lines by Norman Stevens.