We’ll know it’s over when only the customary nightmares resume
When I can pick at my nails again and not assume
a portal to death has been opened
We’ll know it’s over when friends no longer back away
or cross the street to say, Good Day
We’ll know it’s over when “zoom” means just to scoot
and only little kids use it playing after school
We’ll know it’s over when the next bus or train you step inside
will not loom as The Last Ride
We’ll know it will be over when you can buy milk and eggs
without a fear that shakes the legs
We’ll know it’s over when every bag of chips doesn’t involve
a mortal risk
We’ll know its over when all the people in the lot
are merely parking, not idling as they pull into the test slot
We’ll know it’s over when there’s the consummation of our medical dreams
and they stick it in your arm, the fine, well-tested vaccine
We’ll know it’s over when they declare, It works, but will it
only be followed an emergency hospital visit?
We’ll know it’s over if there ever comes a day
When we cease asking when it will be over
When we can simply breathe the air, come what may.
Ted Littleford
Ted Littleford