The deck deserves another waterproof.
It should have happened several months ago,
before we hunkered down and in, aloof
from viral load, from people, shop and show.
The bathroom has irregularities
the builder meant to fix, or tweak and ease.
Agreeing to address the issues now,
she’ll enter masked on Sunday to see how.

Of course I will be pleased the work is done,
but I don’t want these people coming here.
It isn’t a contagion that I fear,
but after months away from everyone,
reluctance is established. This is clear –
I’ve been too much at home this awful year.

This entry was posted in Coronaverse, Home, Personality, Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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