Don’t want to think
About dying just yet,
But when the daily death toll rises
There’s no safe bet,
Who’d have thought
A venture outside snatched,
A brief breath of fresh air
To catch,
Could be my last,
No more hugs
Or meetings,
No more kisses
Just silent greetings,
From afar
Through a misted window
I can only wave and stare,
At my loved ones
Standing out there,
Mouthing reassuring words
That I can’t hear,
No more hugs
Just an air kiss,
Warm embraces
Sorely missed,
From afar
Along with the food parcel
On the doorstep
Separation we must endure,
In hope that normality
Soon will return,
And there’ll be hugs
Once more.
Diane Scantlebury
