A Poem for the Times

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A Poem for the Times

I’m normally a social girl, I love to meet my mates.  But lately with the virus here, we can’t go out the gates.

You see, we are the ‘oldies’ now, we need to stay inside,  If they haven’t seen us for a while, they’ll think we’ve upped and died.

They’ll never know the things we did, before we got this old.  There wasn’t any Facebook then, so not everything was told.

We may seem sweet old ladies, who would never be uncouth, but we grew up in the 60s – if you only knew the truth

There was sex and drugs and rock ‘n roll, the pill and miniskirts.  We smoked, we drank, we partied, and were quite outrageous flirts.

Then we settled down, got married, and turned into someone’s mum,  Somebody’s wife, then nana –  who on earth did we become?

We didn’t mind the change of pace, because our lives were full, but to bury us before we’re dead,  is like a red rag to a bull!

So here you find me stuck inside, for 4 weeks, maybe more.  I finally found myself again, then I had to close the door!

It didn’t really bother me, I’d while away the hour.  I’d bake for all the family, but I’ve got no ruddy flour!

Now Netflix is just wonderful, I like a gutsy thriller.  I’m swooning over Idris, or some random sexy killer.

At least I’ve got a stash of booze, for when I’m being idle.  There’s wine and whiskey, even gin,  If I’m feeling suicidal!

So let’s all drink to lockdown, to recovery and health, and hope this ruddy virus doesn’t decimate our wealth.

We’ll all get through the crisis and be back to join our mates,  Just hoping I’m not far too wide to fit through the flaming gates!

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