So how will they fill those endless waking hours?
Already it feels like yearsSince friends and family said their last goodbyes
Looking on the bright side with lipid eyes.
Working all day to hide their fears
Is beyond their aging powers.
Still young inside, they feel they should be out there:
Organising helpers,
Delivering food and medicines,
Covering for self-isolating teachers
Or just emptying bins.
But now slow, clumsy, unreliable
They can only stand and stare.
So here’s a crumb of comfort for patient folks,
Not able enough to be productively used
But too fit to be excused
Who can’t even meet to share a few jokes
Who, reluctantly, have swallowed their pride.
They also serve, who sit around inside.
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