Sunday 22 March 2020

Beds


Sheets laid,
Pillows pressed,
Plotted, spaced out
and listed.

A final check,
Masks at our necks,
Some seconds to pause-
All exhale.

The fair hall gone,
A hospital made,
In the breadth of a
breathless day.

How many bound?
Who can we save?
How much a bed
Looks like a grave.

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