While rains fell, I swam in the beauty of a summer shower,
the cloudy afternoon turning toward nature’s setting hour,
I think we all have our own conception of a romanticized storm
with its electrifying resonance, makes us each somehow conform.
This year has been a challenge to breathe, only in quiet we grieve.
Stale of a pandemic – a somber reminder of how isolate we believe
our lives would become in a manner of short-lived sordid silence.
We all stayed home together using a prescribed social distance
meant to keep alive, those whom we loved, could now only imagine.
We missed the dear lives we grew to know and watched a time taken
away in throes of mortality, the fear, the protective nature we live
only to suggest we are experiencing a historic timeline. We give
hope to the many children who walked inside the solace of a stage,
so many years did they play the roles whose time will never age.
I watched upon my seniors today, in pictures, experience in a way,
some tasking for ‘break a legs’ in a world asking survival each day.
Tears in my eyes as I live this constant reminder of a virtual end,
careers, scripted lives, now faithful their realities eventually mend.
© Thom Amundsen 6/2020 – the year of the pandemic
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