Quarantine. A poem by John Morrissey

dusty streets lie calm and grey
the people have abandoned them
except for walks to the supermarket
savouring fresh gusts, the swirl of clouds
to return again home, air-soaked,
lunch and books in an armchair
full of past thoughts, future desires

morning dawns to steaming black coffee
evening glows like warm cheery wine
little pleasures by full windows
as conversation sparks in homes and phones
looking out longing, pining for sunshine
time, time is all there is now, long path
leading out to the rest of our lives


Irish teacher, living in Spain, re-discovering that I enjoy reading and writing poems. I was published as a young writer in Rhyme Rag, a publication for young Kilkenny writers many years ago.

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