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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."

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