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The Coronafon Mornings… A Poem by Rory Gibson.

Alarm goes of 45 minutes later than before

Yet rolling over even seems more difficult to endure

Aching from excessive exercise in every muscle

Yet static most of the day no hustle or bustle

Kids have not stirred, got to move and be Dad

They need to have breakfast, more sugary cereal to be had

Annabelle already on her iPad staring at the ever illuminated screen

Constance tired an grumpy she was up late it would seem

Try to coax them up, they have class zooms in half an hour

Turns in to shouting within seconds as the girls have all the power.

Don’t eat too much breakfast, your weight is piling on

But you know it is the red wine every night, as your head begins to throng

More shouting, girls not moving, fighting for the last bit of bread

You need to work, the pressure is building in your exhausted head

You log into the school system dreading the maths work for the day

There is complex fractions, there is another melt down on the way

You print off work, then retire to your screen with your tea

Work is looming ahead, let’s hope businesses to open for me

I know the above can be changed if I make the effort to find the shrinks light

I know the virus will lose, as the vaccine takes up the fight

But most of all I think we just need something to look forward to please Lord.

Because I am fine, my family is well… selfishly I am just incredibly bored.












Poem By Rory Gibson.