When you leave us, oh pandemic mine
Will we still write about love and death
And what they share: the precious sweetness of time?
Will we still be grateful to open our eyes
Will we still bless the oatmeal, the sunrise?
Will this fine new longing to embrace
Still be with us when every trace
Of you has been eradicated
And we resume our lives dedicated
To whatever came before: getting and spending
We’ll likely soon forget your power
That has made us live this way, hour to hour
Deeper by far but at such a cost
That even these words of praise mark our loss.
Ted Littleford