Raining Tuesdays in November, I miss the kiss of September
The caress of a gentle summer and pollenating time with moments I'll remember.
I'm holding on to strings in this lockin.
Flitering the noise of my housemates singing, Awaiting the door for takeaway ringings.
I miss being.
A pandemic took my affection, Direction.
This mask took my right of expression.
A smile worth Ten grand, our only company is our own reflection. I miss connection.
Days don't begin or end they disconnect, pretend they're my friend.
Manipulated a nation without vaccination, Sanctioned emotion,
Isolation we suffer in your devotion.
- By Anna Johnson