CELIA'S POEMS

            No 98  June 23

 

            Ill have a word with Boris,

            Find out his intent,

            Im sure that he has no idea,

            Of my predicament.

 

            When he decided to lock us in,

            And wed be at home each day,

            For however long he kept us in,

            Id write a poem each day.

 

            I dont think he must realise,

            The part Ive had to play,

            To try to keep people happy,

            By sending poems their way.

           

            When are we getting out of this,         

            Perhaps you could give us a sign,

            I couldnt do the job you do,

            But you could not do mine.

 

            So if suddenly were all set free,

            How lovely that would be,

            I want you to remember,

            That it was down to me.