Now MONDAY is my usual day for cleaning round the house,
I try to do this cheerfully, but more often I just grouse.
The dust piles up in corners where the Dyson does not fit.
And much of all the clutter should be ear-marked for the tip.
But with my yellow duster and disinfectant jar
I whisk around the various rooms in crannies near & far,
And soon the house looks civilised, (if you don’t bend down and peer,)
Now it’s time to put the kettle on, or even have a beer!
TUESDAY is the food shop day, but all routine is broken,
For Britain is in lockdown, and the Government has spoken,
They say we must stay far apart when going round a shop,
Else we’ll be fined for flouting rules by the vigilant nearby Cop.
So in we go, just one by one, with many wearing masks,
Scooting all around each other as we go about our tasks.
We need baked beans, but tins are short, so only two per person,
But they’re not made by Heinz I see, so I shun the other version.
WEDNESDAY is another day when I usually sit and paint,
Or sketch a new design but keep it really faint,
For the design may be off centre and some rubbing out required
To make the pretty picture in the way that I aspired.
But this year is so different with events all shelved or shut
No place to show my paintings which has put me in a rut.
Why go on painting pictures which none will ever see?
It seems a waste of effort to behave like a busy bee.
THURSDAY is the fourth weekday, though some will say day five,
Whatever you might call it, at least we’re still alive!
The virus rages round the world, and it really is quite scary
With deaths reported everywhere, though the numbers often vary.
So people just stay home each day, and pray we might stay healthy,
For this is what all humans want; the young, the poor, and wealthy.
In this time of isolation, our computers are the king!
We can see and talk to family, and no longer need to ring.
FRIDAY comes around again and it’s really nice and sunny,
The garden looks quite sparkling, and the bees are making honey.
But out the window I can see, the weeds are taking over
With lots of chicory and grass each intermixed with clover.
It tells me I should be out there, digging up offenders,
But other things indoors distract, and they are strong contenders
Like read a book or write to friends, or actuate TV
All these things will better protect my permanent gammy knee.
Today I think is SATURDAY, though it’s difficult keeping track
In this endless time of lockdown; I feel I’ve lost the knack
Of knowing which each day is which; my routines’ out of view,
No meetings, dates, or anything which would normally give a clue.
But our family are a godsend, and all now work from home,
So they set up general “meetings”, using an app. to me unknown.
We see and hear and talk non-stop on this app. whose name is Zoom,
There is no better way I think, of relieving all our gloom.
SUNDAY is day one or seven depending on your diary,
Some people get uptight by this, and really get quite fiery.
But believe me it’s a special day, the Lord said “Keep it free”,
So off we go to church each time, and get home in time for tea!
But not in 2020, all churches had to close,
Our vicars go on-line these days, which keeps us on our toes,
They remind us of the wonder of the countryside around,
And all the gifts from God we have; these surely do abound.
Lorna Minton, Twyford
We welcome your poems for our new centre spread feature. Email them to [email protected]
We love to hear from you! Send your poems to The Wokingham Paper, Crown House, 231 Kings Road, Reading RG1 4LS or email: [email protected]
We reserve the right to edit letters
Views expressed in this section are not necessarily those of the paper