One hundred days hence
We’ll go out past the picket fence
And look back on today’s events
And process how we feel
Once Earth is scrubbed clean
Will we go back to being mean?
And once we’re out of quarantine
Will we isolate for real?
When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were
Don’t touch your own eyes
A recipe to dehumanize
The gently hoarded bath supplies
Are choking up our homes
But one lovely effect
Of being sorely circumspect
A golden hour to reconnect
With kids, and pets, and yes, with phones
When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were
When you’re holed up in a shoebox
The days are all a blur
And the lonely, get lonelier and
The cozy get cozier and
The family get familier than they were
Copyright 2020 Zach London
