I wrote this in 2006 and it sounds like this past year, and my Covid-19 existence. (The deep falling snow could represent covid). I'll be glad when we all get back to normal.
From within these walls, I dwell.
I look for the end
of this deep, falling snow...
I look for signs of life, any life.
Have I suddenly awakened
to an empty world...
devoid of any human life?
No one passes...
No one comes to my door.
The world is silent...
is anyone out there, I shout?
But silence is all I get in return.
Where are the children,
who make angels in the snow?
It's been days now,
since anyone has passed.
My phone is not working,
and the electricity is out.
The world has stood still,
but the snow keeps on falling, falling.
From within these walls, I dwell...
cold, alone and forgotten.
by
Sandy Hatcher-Wallace
February 17, 2006
I look for the end
of this deep, falling snow...
I look for signs of life, any life.
Have I suddenly awakened
to an empty world...
devoid of any human life?
No one passes...
No one comes to my door.
The world is silent...
is anyone out there, I shout?
But silence is all I get in return.
Where are the children,
who make angels in the snow?
It's been days now,
since anyone has passed.
My phone is not working,
and the electricity is out.
The world has stood still,
but the snow keeps on falling, falling.
From within these walls, I dwell...
cold, alone and forgotten.
by
Sandy Hatcher-Wallace
February 17, 2006
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