With all due respect to those who are truly suffering, I offer a little poetic humor. I think it speaks for itself. 


Not sure what I did,
On St. Patrick’s Day.
But when I got home,
There was heck to pay.

It was serious,
The way it sounded.
When I was told,
“You’ve been grounded.”

No friends could come over,
Forced to stay inside.
“Social Distancing” rules,
I was told to abide.

I was locked in the bathroom,
Scrubbing my hands.
I wasn’t even allowed,
To see games or bands.

My use of toilet paper,
Was restricted to squares.
I tried to apologize,
Over my errs.

I thought they were going,
To wash out my mouth.
Can’t visit the kids,
Who live far South.

I sought explanation,
Got confusion instead.
Could have made it simple,
“No dinner – just bed.”

I looked out the window,
Masked intruders in the street.
This all makes me hungry,
“Is there more to eat?”

People are sick,
Maybe I am too?
My sympathy symptoms,
Turned out to be flu.

Celebrities were dying,
I began to understand.
We all had to cancel,
Trips that we planned.

Everyone was in trouble
Not just me!
We were all grounded,
No one was free.

It made us all paranoid,
Reluctant of a hand.
It was all reminiscent,
Of reading, “The Stand.”

We gorge on snacks,
Binge on bad TV.
Over this evil enemy,
No-one can see.

“We’re in this together,”
Wishing it was only me.
I’m used to being grounded,
Since I turned three.

Copyright 2020 johnstonwrites.com