How Do We Stay On Our Feet? Poem by Mark Heathcote

How do we stay on our feet?
Beat what is now on the street.
A plague has entered our lives.
No more concerts, no more gigs,
No more contrail-lined skies
While we self-isolate, agonise?

Who we know may soon be gone.
Something we can no longer prolong
Like a biblical wave taking all
But for the very young, the strong:
Public gatherings banned football:
Take a backseat as we bunker down.

Hope in the shadows a long black cloud
There's clapping in doorways on-the-street.
But please stand back 2-metres or-thereabouts.
I don't want to infect you, see you deceased.
I know we will all come-through-this
Goodnight sweetheart - gives me, a-kiss.