It’s the start of poetry month,
That time of year when we all
Get to wax poetic,
Howl at the moon,
Scream with delight,
And rhyme all of the time.
Only this year, it’s different,
We are mostly stuck inside,
Poetically reminiscing about being about,
Cursing with the setting sun and rising moon,
Yelling at the adversity,
Struggling to find sense in the madness.
It’s April, no fooling,
Coronavirus will be here for however long,
How about some beautiful words,
That might bring a giggle,
A nod, or most importantly
A distraction from the latest routine.