The Boy’s spirits began to sink
When told of new rules that he thinks stink.
That nearly everyone cannot leave their home
All must live every day, in their own abode.
No playing in the park, on swings and slides
No visits to the zoo, museums or seaside.
Granny was told to stay home, away from people she hides.
So no car outings, for chips and fries.
This evil virus has caused fun to die.
Only once a day, leave for buying essentials,
And once, for walking the dog, for exercise.
The Boy was at first, very upset
But then thought of new things to experience.
Perhaps he’d write a diary,
like Pypes and, Anne Frank.
Learn a new language, like Latin or French,
Write a story, or immerse himself in verse,
Decisions to make, in a time frame unknown.
A waste of time to sit and moan; thought The Boy
His mother he knows, would like his room uncluttered
His toys tidy in the toy box cupboard.
Music is the answer, he thought,
He’d practice what he’d been taught.
The Boy then thought of children, who have no home.
They have no toys or books to call there own,
He will pick up the phone and chat to Mr Brown
Who lives alone next door, over the wall.
A kind man who always throws back his ball.
The Boy will phone his granny, she’d love to receive a call.
She must be as sad as he, not to see her grandson at all.
He will paint her a picture, he can show her on the phone,
And lift her spirits, by telling her, some jokes, for her unknown.
He gazes at the splendour, of stunning colours in the sky;
Admiring mother nature, who’s beauty is on high.
The tiniest flower, the brightest blade of grass,
Time to admire all there is, now and from the past.