my watch must be broken –
is it really just two o’clock?
was the weather forecast right,
the front door – is it locked?
sunshine toasts my skin
it’s baked a golden hue
a colour seen as threatening
small wonder I feel so blue
‘s bad enough to be in lockdown
virus lurking outside the door
since the ghosts have shed their sheets
hatred multiplies by the score
I’m mad, I’m sad, I’m worried
filled with dread when I think of November
best to give my fears to God
try to enjoy what’s left of September
copyright © 2020 KPM
