Here in the now we think of then

And them – of times when we

Could meet outside – touch, kiss, hug – when

We felt like it, so free –

*

That world of honeyed dreans is lost

In isolated dawn

It succumbed in the last spring frost

And cannot come again

*

In April blooms the bees are woke

And drunk on nectar as the evenings wane

They seep and melt through air like smoke –

They may not come again

*

We sleepwalked into viral purgatory

Long distanced days of social dystrophy –

But nightmares fade away at dawn

If we can wake again.

*

**

*

Freddie Omm

April 2020