It's Still Life

We’re Lucky

Fear and suspicion, death
        and isolation aside,
lockdown was good to us, I say.
You’re eating oatmeal. You nod.

We had ample food on the table,
our health, and money enough
to turn on the heating in June.

You pause the spoonfuls to say
it was the wettest, coldest June 
you can rightly remember. I nod.

And you cut my hair, and I cut
yours. Outside. Too right –
can’t have all that hair falling
between the floorboards.

The car battery went dead, I say.
We couldn’t drive anywhere.
Went online, bought a charger.
It’s called a tickle, or a trickle.

Trickle charger, you say. I nod.

We also bought a greenhouse.
       Paid men to level the ground
       and build it. All done online.

I think the garden
       is the best it’s ever been.
Broke rules with workmen, you say.
I nod. Bite me is all I can think to say.

Tomatoes. Cucumbers. Flowers.
Chilli peppers. Sunflowers climbing,
and how did those foxgloves grow
taller than me, and you say,
        Because old women shrink.

We’re lucky – we still like each other.

Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021