She is a lonely puppet on a string Sitting on a comfy chair Waiting for someone to pull her delicate strings

Every day is a surprise Never know what lies in store Today we went to shops Just four of us The car couldn’t take any more

An unwritten poem I have yet to write A clean crisp white paper A quill yet to spill ink An unwritten poem

I cannot believe it I thought I’d escaped it It came as a shock I have caught that COVID I cannot believe it

The ink ran out The paper did curl The words had nowhere to lay The poem couldn’t be finished today The ink had spilt Ink had ran out

Scattered days Splattered every which way Blue, yellow and black Silver sparkles Like diamonds in the crunchy snow A Jackson Pollock day

The world keeps turning While I live in the dark shadows The world keeps changing I no longer recognise

I closed the creaking door I heard you bellow I heard you roar The earth stood frightfully still I heard thunder

So tell me? Who let Eunice out of her Pandora box? Who let her off her tight rope leash? Who opened the latch?

Not quite remembering where I’ve been No idea what my future holds Confusion in this unknown ground New talents found

Oh what a drama Oh what a saga A catastrophe No teabags to be found Paranoia all around Not a teabag to be found Not a tealeaf

We all congregate Thank goodness not everyday We join the ever turning work treadmill

The day the world changed Never to be the same How we wish we could retrace our past journey

Cupids arrow A shot in the dark A love A spark

The cool dude graffiti cat Mesmerised by his wide green piercing eyes The black and yellow tiger whispering in his pointy ear

The world is a very strange place It can never be the same as it was I want to turn the clock back But time is the only keeper

I wanted to hold the Earth in my hand I wanted to feel the heat I want to feel the ice frozen cold

I wanted to walk above the clouds Feel the fresh air My feet walking on air I felt the burning heat beneath I saw the red flames

When sparkling new You shone like beacon You would have needed sunglasses to look at you Your beautiful keys all perfectly done

As I explore the imagination of my mind I hold the hot black burning coal in the palm of my hands