People will go outside again.

How have you been? Who have you seen? Have

you kept your hands clean? Idle conversations will

cause heart palpitations. Should you be this close?

Find yourself feeling like a deer in headlights? A

fish out of water? There is no such thing as a fish.

People will start to die again.

What is your favourite colour, do you think? The matte cream

found in the pages of books that you hold? 
                                                         (do you still read as much as you did?)

The soft brown found in soil from which so much is grown? 
                                                        (do you remember the books we once wrote?)

Try to listen to voices so unlike your own. 
                                                         (do you still have any hope?)

In order to break it, you must notice the mould. 
                                                         (do you take notice of lives not fully lived?)

The time will start to fly again.

Hum a tune of your choice and scrub

this time from our hands as it runs

down the drain, I beg you to refrain

from returning to what we called

normal.

There is no going back again.