The Crown
We went about our normal way,
And heard the news of death so far away.
We didn’t mind because it was not here,
But alas it’s near and we tremble in fear.
When the grim reaper started to win,
'Twas medieval quarantine that locked us in.
Panic, strife and hunger lie on the fringes,
Boots were needed to toughen the hinges.
We wore masks to mask our masks,
Wishing to live and finish our daily tasks.
Two arms length we needed not to reach out,
But served as our measure not to freak out.
Scrubs showed us our new heroes,
Fighting the unseen to stave off sorrows.
How can the enemy do this all?
Without a big stick yet it stood tall.
This was not the Crown we all would bow,
Unwilling subjects forced to make a vow.
Will it return to normal we don’t know?
Or will it be a whole new show.
JRF
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