Isolation…

Isolation…

I’m on lockdown,

under house arrest.

~

Self imposed of course,

for a darn good reason,

|

One you may already know,

I’ve mentioned it before.

~

My little peculiarity.

~

Not that one!

Stop sniggering.

~

The other one.

~

I’m scared of people,

they make me feel anxious.

~

Oh….

~

and there’s some virus about,

but let’s brush over that,

wash our hands,

disinfect the couch,

settle back down,

and focus on me.

~

That’s what we do these days,

or so it appears.

~

Me, me, me, me, me.

~

Anyway…

~

I’m not leaving my home,

but all will be fine.

~

I’ve prepared for my confinement,

through detailed planning,

leaving no stone left unturned.

~

The fridge is well stocked,

with essential prison food.

Plenty of Scotch Eggs,

and Cadbury’s Twirls.

~

I won’t get bored,

there’s lots I can do.

I can talk do myself,

spend more time on the loo.

~

I might get married,

to my favourite chair.

We’ve been living in sin,

but I know it wants more.

~

In a few weeks from now,

I’ll peek out my door.

~

A few seconds is all I’ll need,

to see nothing’s changed.

~

Then I’ll retreat back inside,

to the safety of my lair.

~

Just a couple of extra days,

and then a few months more.

~

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