Out Loud

I sit here on my own;
Rain runs down the windowpane.
Ideas for poetry I’ve none,
Nor any buried deep inside my brain.
Sun hides patiently
Behind a shroud of dark-grey cloud;
The sound of deathly silence
Makes me want to scream out loud.

How long must I remain inside?
That question whizzes round my head.
The answer is, if I go out, I might
Contract Coronavirus and, sadly,
Rueing my decision end up dead!

I go into the kitchen; make a mug of tea,
Before switching on the radio and listening
To the latest news update from the BBC.
“”Covid19 is spreading; deaths are on an
Upward curve, the Prime Minister advising
“Keep your nerve! Don’t go out this
Weekend! Stay inside, unlike those idiots
Who’ve ignored all my advice and died””

I sit here on my own;
Rain runs down the windowpane.
Ideas for poetry I’d none
But many bristle now inside my brain.
Sun hesitantly
Taking a peep through the shroud of cloud;
To the sound of ‘Idiot Wind'
“Turn it down!” wife screams out loud.

@ rowland paul hill  5 April 2020  v3