
A Stroll and A Bitch
It’s back to the Victorian era.
We meet up with friends
for a “Covid-safe” stroll and
a bitch about everything.
I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow,
she says, and can you believe it,
my kid is 2-years old today.
Two years locked down with a baby.
I can’t breathe if I think about it.
Nobody watched me before – but now,
I’m watched all the time, she says.
I smile,
sympathetic friend that I am.
I baked bread this morning,
I tell her,
and it sounds so lame
that I nearly limp.
Going off-piste without a prompt. Image is from Public Domain Review Four Victorian Witches ca 1875.©Misky 2021 Shared with #apoemaday on Twitter
11 responses to “A Stroll and a Bitch”
Really like the last two lines
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Thanks, b. The photo gave me such a chuckle.
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that’s what I was going to write too! 😀
this is a very wry poem, Misky.
-David
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Thanks, David!
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Two years locked down with a baby brings home what we’ve all been going through lately. My 93 year old aunt keeps telling me it is worse than the war.
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I think your auntie is right.
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😂
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This is powerful, Misky. Simple observations really bringing home the pandemic. And a brilliant ending couplet.
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Thanks, Worms. ❤️
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Ah, yes; the all-consuming Nothing. Bake on, Sister.
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If our paths don’t cross before then, happy Christmas to you, Ron.
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