Quarantine
By Steve Grogan
My window gives me a view
But keeps everyone isolated
So I can only guess what’s new
And what people are thinking
We remember friends caresses
Now can only dream of this
The memory keeps me tortured,
At the same time it is bliss
The mountains still look good
And buds still form on trees
As we sit here slowly dying
From quarantine not Covid19
Before this life was hit and miss
Now it’s just a miss with no hit
Strange times keep churning
Don’t think we’ll ever get over it.
...depression is tucked away and never exposed Like shadows inside a gun barrel them explodes.
Steve Grogan
"Started doing poetry readings a little over a year ago been writing for decades just retired and I spend my time writing and golfing and taking care of my kids... And carpentry."