Moving on

Mornings, not like afternoons

Afternoons differing from evenings

Evenings changing into nights

And yet ...

All mornings seem the same

So does the afternoons

As are the evenings

… and the nights

I seem to be stuck in a day

Like Bill Murray in Groundhog’s day

 

Frozen in time

Ever waning enthusiasm

Aware of the ticking counter

Revealing morbid tales

 

The environs don’t seem different

But my eyes disagree

The air has remained the same

But I don’t trust it anymore

My fingers yearn to touch my face

But the nose peer at them suspiciously

I wet my hands and reach out for the soap

But my hands stop midway

The liquid soap has won my confidence

But what if the virus thrives on the bar of soap?

I look at it keenly

But the virus is too small to be seen

I wash away the top layers off the soap

But wonder if this precaution is sufficient

Many have talked to us about sanitizers and liquid soaps

But I have heard nothing about the soap bars

It should have been a five second affair

But now every person born on that day get a happy birthday song

 

Forecasts predict bleak times ahead

Even clean hands might not stop

Affectionate creatures from

Reaching my insides

 

I know how to keep away from the virus

But does the virus know how to keep away from me?

The potatoes look healthy from the outside

But did the virus think so too?

Onions bring tears in my eyes

But the virus has no eyes

I love the smell of the sanitizer on my palms

But my tongue protests as the food reaches it

I know how to be clean

But being clean is no longer enough

I latched on to the word enough

And decided to go back to 1984

 

Never in my life will I be

Overly concerned about the virus

For I don't care about these small creatures

Even when the doctors yell

About its existence among us

Reaching out to us constantly.