Wrinkled Shirt

My shirt is wrinkled – who will see?
No one but my spouse and me
And grandkids, via FaceTime’s screen;
But hey! At least my clothes are clean.

My bed is made, the sink is bare.
It isn’t like I just don’t care,
Though staying in, it’s quite a job
To stop from living like a slob.

My husband vacuums, I wash clothes.
We’re making do, so I suppose
A wrinkled t-shirt’s no big deal –
My wrinkled face has less appeal!

Clothespins

Years ago, in Holland,
In a cool, eclectic store,
I bought a set of clothespins
To jazz up my home décor.

Of brightly colored wood
And smaller than the average size,
I pictured them with photos
Hanging like a sweet surprise.

My plan did fizzle like
The best-laid ones of mice and men.
I tucked those clothespins where
I haven’t seen them since back then.

Until I started washing
All my laundry in the sink
And hung a make-shift clothesline
Using – well, what do you think?

My cheerful little clothespins,
Which have waited all this time
To be used as they were meant to
And immortalized in rhyme.

Cuomo's Daily Update

Through it all, this crazy season,
There has been one voice of reason:
Andrew Cuomo, New York’s guv,
A Democrat we all can love.

He gives us info, up-to-date
And all he does communicate
Is done with calm and strength and flair;
Nobody out there can compare.

Yet he is not afraid to doubt
The powers-that-be and call them out.
He’ll challenge, criticize and fight
When what he hears seems not quite right.

To me, the most important thing
Is not the data he does bring
But rather how he gives us hope
Without which, we could never cope.

Love in the Time of Covid

Although other news Covid’s somehow upstaged,
My friend called to tell me her son got engaged.
It felt like a beacon of light in a storm
For news that is good is no longer the norm.

The newly betrothed also let their friends know
They adopted a rescue dog; photographs show
Happy grins on their faces and maybe the snout
Of their puppy, although there is room for some doubt.

I picture a wedding and all it entails,
The planning reminding us hope yet prevails.
The future is hazy and up in the air
But love conquers everything, even despair.

Apartment Life Now

In apartment life you must decide
On the places where virus germs hide
Like the lobby or worse
Where we have to traverse
When an upper floor’s where we reside.

Elevators quite likely can link
Nasty droplets to us, I would think
And the laundry room’s prime
For a germ-transfer crime
So I’m washing my clothes in the sink!

I Almost

I almost went to Florida
To visit with my aunt
Until the virus landed
And my plans it did supplant.

I almost got a chance to see
A Sarasota treat.
The Ringling exhibition
Would have made the trip complete.

I almost got to quilting class
To start on something new
And as to when I’ll get there,
Well, I haven’t got a clue.

I almost got to go to Greece,
A long-awaited tour.
Perhaps next year I’ll have the chance
To get there and explore.

I almost got to see my play
Produced up on the stage.
I almost got to celebrate
My birthday’s special age.

I almost got to keep
My Friday babysitting dates.
Though FaceTime helps a bit
A lot of hugging yet awaits.

I almost got to live my life
Without this daily fear.
I’m hoping that these almosts
Will, at some point, disappear.

In the Dark

This morning I walked in the dark.
Before, I’d not go to the park
When the sky wasn’t light;
It would give me a fright
For the pathways were lonely and stark.

But now, though, my worries do lack
The fear of a mugger attack.
It’s the foe that’s unseen
Causing mass quarantine
That I hope to keep off of my back.

Ere the sunrise, the streets are devoid
Of the crowds making me paranoid.
So I breathe in the air
While remaining aware
Of each early bird I must avoid.