In Ma and Pa’s back garden for a
Few hours today has been quite brill,
Warm rays upon our faces warding
Away winter’s lingering chill.
Hands clasped round mugs of cawfee,
Nibbling individual apple pies,
We all sit, together once again,
Under pale blue Sunday skies.
Outside, not in,
Garden, not room,
It beats the crap out of
Catch ups over Zoom.
While we wait to hug and
Pull our loved ones near,
Today’s precious hours
I’ll hold dear.