Lockdown

Parked up vehicles line the streets.
A total lockdown for some weeks.
Stay inside we’ll all be fine.
Wash your hands, don’t cross the line.
Star crossed lovers kept apart.
Split in two with broken hearts.
The working class brought to their knees,
Fed with hope of money trees.
No public house, no place to go.
Hops go stale when taps don’t flow.
The old folk stay at home in fear.
For a week, a month, maybe a year.
Staring out behind the glass, 
Hoping for all this to pass.
A familiar sight they’ve seen before.
As children in the grips of war.
Times like these we come together,
Making do with temporary measures.
On the other side, loo rolls aplenty, 
We’ll party like it’s twenty twenty.