The Virus

The enemy lines
On pavements are drawn.
Hazard taped benches —
The public are warned!

“Only leave home
For food or for meds.
The rest of the day
Stay in your beds!”

Evacuated streets,
Pigeons galore!
Shop window Sorrys —
Can take it no more!

Week after week,
Losing your mind.
Don’t stand and chat
Or you will be fined.

The corner shop closed
Due to no trade.
Toilet rolls vanished
In some kind of raid.

Distant souls gather
Laughing it off,
Two meters apart
Until somebody coughs.
One way traffic,
Enforcements in store —
Battling for pasta
In some kind of war.

The young and the old,
Looking falorn.
The barber shop closed,
So no heads are shorn.

When all this is past
They’ll sure make a killing
From those who survive
If only God willing!