My face pressed against the window pane, I wave to a Neighbor, they do the same.
Another day in isolation, Another day an anxiety manifestation.
I try to be positive, upbeat, optimistic, Say "well, there's beauty in the simplistic"
These days I can spend hours being artistic, But I spend even longer being realistic.
This will continue for months they say. This will keep going on this way.... Panic stricken day after day.
Alternating with the classic downplay..."It will be fine, It's not too bad, there's no reason to cry, don't be sad."
But people are dying and will continue to die, while the economy is crumbling into dust. And we have a government who we frankly don't trust.
They say it could be over 200 hundred thousand that meet their end, And all we can do is mournful prayers to send, And desperate hopes that the ill will mend.
But more than that, we wish for ourselves and those we hold dear, To be spared of this virus, along with this nagging fear.
We hope and hope, and that's all we can do Stuck inside, our feet firmly glued, and absolutely nothing to attend to.
But through the window pane I can wave, While I wonder who will be left to save? When this is all over what will remain? How could things ever be the same?