EIGHT DAY OF THE WEEK
I searched the four corners of the earth,
For a pearl in a dewdrop i could not find,
But a needle in a haystack pointed to the dearth,
Of children's laughter left behind,
As i passed every play park empty and sullen,
I asked "Dear Needle what is happening?
With a wink of her eye,
And a long drawn out sigh,
Said she: "this day of the week is called Today" and its just the two of us,
Everyone else is hiding from The Novel Corona Virus.
EIGHT DAY OF THE WEEK © gillena cox 2020
Poets and Storytellers United
Weekly Scribblings #19: Lie to Me