Cocooning

So loneliness has a new face
the kind I have not seen before
each break of day draws its fears,
I search for colour in the beige
yet all is muddled in the mundane,
as the butterfly sleeps.

The news I hear is all the same
a new world order and it's fear
how I tremble at the silence,
hope that sinks in the uncertain
the ear craves for a sweeter sound,
as the butterfly sleeps.

Solitude that cuts so deep
pervading every waking moment
the screen draws solace but not the touch,
how I crave for that warm embrace
the kind that nourishes me with hope,
as the butterfly sleeps.

The sunlight dance alerts my senses
as I draw my body from the rut
I potter in my garden's pleasure,
whilst the robin's dance draws distraction
the moment's glory is still so lonely,
as the butterfly sleeps.

Delivery men and neighbours chatter
from the other side of window paynes
how I long to wander back to "the normal",
to bingo halls and Sunday mass
to loved ones homes just one more time,
so I may rise and fly again.