POETRY
I CAN’T SMELL OR WHINE
But I can recite this Corona rhyme
Dear Corona, ever since you got here
We are engulfed in fear
No performance, opera or rap
No one to pat me on my back
Singing at the bar is out of the question
No Opera or concert to mention
That French connoisseur across the border
Misses my heavily-accented French order
I’d accept all of this without a sniffle
Partly because I don’t have that choice
My nose now feels painfully brittle
Eyes pop out, no apprehensions voiced
Amid chaotic work timings
Miserable holiday plans, no rest
This COVID nurse, endlessly working
And everyday Corona tests?
Teary eyes that cannot scream
Mucus and blood form a stream
Laughing, snotting, breathing deep
Few more acts that feel like a dream
Last minute shifts, morn after night
Weekend work with a smile
One good thing I suppose
Is that I can’t smell poo or a rose
How I long to climb that stage
Feel that air freely on my face
Lose myself in that delirious frenzy
And perform for an audience before me
Shireen is an avid writer, budding Opera singer, apprentice nurse, dog sitter, dog walker, walker…. Jack of all trades and master of one — Mother to two children aged 8 and 10!
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