Unwashed dishes and utensils.

Untidy house, dusty curtains.

hanging cobwebs, smear window
panes.

Unmade bed, ruffled pillows.

Sticky floor and shaky floorboards.

Banging slates and leaking roof.

Dis-colored ceiling, broken gutters,

Uneven steps and a sea of fallen
autumn and winter leaves have
taken up residence around the
house,

Now that the pandemic virus has
evaporated into a flu-like synthon,
things are not the same,

Come back home, come back home
you’ve been dreadfully missed, nights
without dark, I experienced, days
without light, I care not for.

I could remember the day you left,
the front door swings behind you, like
a piece of hanging forgotten cable
that the wind has chosen to provoke.

And has it happened the door is still
swinging, like the tail of a crinoline in
motion on a dance floor, come home,
come home while your mind is still
hanging.