Buxton Spoken Words

Coping with Covid 19

This crown of thorns sees off old folk in droves,

takes those in dodgy health, sing ‘Ring a ring

of roses’, blighting princes, paupers too.

As for the rest, denied the stimulus

of friend or foe, deprived of work that plugs

long days like grout, time loiters with intent.

Outside, no teenage louts chase echoes down

mean streets as mute as football games on hold.

No cars roar by; there are no traffic fumes,

our perfumed gardens lustful walls of sound.

There is no Mr Toad to ease our load,

sunbeams and cucumbers, Laputa science

run riot, our idle fears past sticking place,

where all routes lead to Cemetery Road.

Peter Branson