Words From Home

We're forced into an effort,

to continue to look into each other's eyes.

The Government decided,

for our safety, that we were entering lockdown.

That could be exactly one hundred

and sixty-seven words,

spoken to one single person,

per day.

Now, a telephone rings.

Pressing loud-speaker,

pointing towards everyone's ear,

We recognise your voice, your sounds.

I know it's only me and you,

Late at night, our words will run dry.

I'll slowly whisper I love you,

Remembering, we can be triumphant.

Unaware, of what's left behind.

This mop and mow mechanism,

of closeness which we know,

may never return.

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