Poem By dave lessard
COVID days; Days of washing of the hands
social distancing when you've other plans
wearing silly masks like robbers often do
be sure to wash your hands when through.
At first, it was a two week quarantine
then stretched to something seldom seen
turned into months and dragged right on
we scratched our heads and asked how long?
We were quite slow to finally don the mask
found it to be an ungracious, dubious task
but infections changed our sluggish mind
of the horrid consequences we would find.
No one wants to die a tragic, morbid death
we'd rather live to take another breath
to reach old age as we first wished to do
not give up the ship before we're through.
COVID days; It all sticks with us as I write
an ugly, morose plague that gives us fright
we must resolve to fight it and be tough
'til it finally chokes and screams, ENOUGH!