covid 19 does love

carelessly stroking my hair

like the clock ticking carelessly

we drowned into the mist of

lost moments, lost experiences.

waiting has become automatic

suspended on pause

like a broken stereo

apathetic has become the touch

and silently I welcome you;

a quieter rhythm 

to not disturb the air, 

the clock ticking,

the bird naively chirping.

dead flowers on the windowsill

lazily I watch them turn into dust

- dust has become my movement,

slow, unimpressed, constantly hovering.

Yet, in a cup of hot chocolate,

you bring me warmth,

a long lost willing to please,

a sign of life overcoming stillness.