The Sanctum of Sanity

The Corona Moaner

I have not clapped for carers,

Nor banged a saucepan with a spoon,

I’ve not dressed in forties clothing

To perform a war-time tune,

I’ve not confused our nurses

With angels from above,

Nor walked a garden marathon

To demonstrate my love,

I’ve not delivered food parcels

To those in desperate straits,

Neither have I gone on-line

To share my victimhood with mates,

I’ve never joined a virtual queue

To obtain my medication,

Nor shown enormous gratitude

For the efforts of the nation,

I haven’t posted videos

Of my exercise routine,

Nor been confused by all the rules

And what they all may mean,

I’ve not busted out of lockdown

To prove my tough credentials,

Nor have I hoarded toilet rolls

Or other specified essentials,

I’ve not sought out celebrities

Performing ditties from their bed,

Demonstrating their desire

To prove they are not dead,

I’ve not enjoyed the spectacle

Of dim journos seeking fame,

By asking stupid questions

Designed to allocate some blame.

Yet, even though no noble deeds

Have marked my passage though the gloom,

I’ve been sustained by spring’s desire

To wake, grow, bud and bloom,

Proving time's indifference to all our current strife,

Yet, giving us good reason to love and value life.

Copyright: James Rainsford, May 2020