Lockdown Lamentations

In the untidy mess of the kitchen,

I find two yellow cards

marked for coffees taken

at the Honeypot; one card

just needs one more stamp.

 

Coffee shops closed- no pots

of honey for thee or me

when the clock stands at four or three.

Conversations suspended, friendships upended-

and no pots of honey for the bear.

 

In the distance outside a noisy crow jars

its tuneless note, insistent from its throat.

In search of lost time and Madeline to dip

lost feeling between cup and lip

and just Nescafe to sit and sip.

 

Suspended- no connection and no connection

just the feeling of trouble

brewing.

With grateful thanks to https://www.facebook.com/thehoneypotpz

 

Author: penwithlit

Freelance writer and radio presenter

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