On other days
I haul my sorry arse
Off the couch
Get on with another day
Find things to do
In this awful state
Of isolation

Today I couldn’t
The black dog was gripping
That sorry arse
And wouldn’t let go
Wasn’t helped by noting
That many are ignoring
The abundance of warnings

People sitting about
Around tables
With clear signs
That this is not permitted
Eating and drinking
In close proximity
No wonder it takes the police
To move them on

A visit to Conjola park
Certainly didn’t improve
The state of my day
Cleaning up yes
It has begun
But so little
Three months down the track

Skype wouldn’t work
To put me in touch
With dear friends in Italy
Bunkered down for so long
In circumstances dire
Coming to us around the corner

Bloody hell its hard
To exist in a vacuum
Not knowing the dimensions
In time and space
While our leaders dither
Not making the hard decisions
So clearly shown necessary
By experience elsewhere

Seems that a dollar
Is worth more
Than a life
The marketing man
Less than clear
In his messages
To a nation under threat
Desperate for some clarity
And direction

Hell I’d go to bed
Sleep for a whole day
If I could
But rest doesn’t come easy
To a troubled mind
Tossing and turning
Is more the story

I should be trying
To offer words of encouragement
That I have done before
I’ll bet I’m not the only one
Who wrestles with the devil
From time to time
I’ll throw him off my back
Tomorrow or the day after!