Two hundred plus days-
Melbourne has been separated.
Two hundred plus days.
Over half a year-
longing-
to be reunited.
Over half a year-
Saint Paul’s cathedral bells-
have sung a lonesome hymm-
Echoing empty streets.
Under the clocks of Flinders Street Station-
a shadowless shell of what was.
Two-hundred plus days-
Unable to hug our friends and family-
to comfort them-
To comfort us.
Two-hundred plus days-
and counting-
always counting.
We are suffering.
Every little moment you have to yourself. Make it a moment for yourself. -TLEofCassie
Uber travels, bumpy road. Air tinged with smoke. Nauseating aroma. Cars. Cars. Cars, homeward bound. Motion sickness creeps on in. Phone, typing, pot holes jagger on. Radio sound, white noise voices. Mainstream Radio overrated. Talk. Talk. Talk, nothing smart is said. Traffic light. Red arrow. Can not turn. Coffee sign, craving caffeine. Benches empty. Roads are full. Typing, typing. I have typed.
Here we go again-
around the Merry-go-round.
Repetitive, repetition.
Doors shut tight.
Curtains drawn shut.
No joyous sounds around.
No freedom out-and-about.
Timed.
Tired hearts-
empty company.
Let’s all hope.
Such is hope?
TLEofCassie 