Two Thousand Twenty, and Then One

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The dripping faucet became the new lullaby,
The silence on the street was so loud.
Locked and tucked away at home,
You only had your mind to spiel with.
It happened so fast,
The way the contagion started to spread,
Even faster was the loss of our companions.
With no time to mourn,
The world was voiceless,
That even pins refused to plunge.
The television provided nothing more but disorientation,
Causing us more time on our devices,
The ones with the imperceptible chain from our wrist to our palms.
To call our family and even our foes,
Those we have not seen in years.
Only to beguile them and tell them we are well,
While on the inside it was nothing but fear.
The dripping faucet became the new lullaby,
But the summer breeze came through the window,
It brushed lightly on your cheek,
No longer in languor,
You realized you were no longer sitting on the table with a glass half empty,
But a soul full of optimism.

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