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 |   All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know. |
| My walls are six feet to infinity. You call, I don't see you — Just whispers pleading near Carbon-points in your light forest. My walls are thick, invisible, Seemingly transparent. I glimpse you elegantly Prance, spread your flowers. Glimmers of daisies bright Bathe their feet — distanced From your ceremonial glee, Apartheid for dour me. In my cavern segregated, Your social leper peers From morass to daily sunrises Never dawning on me. Social distancing now Is no different than before, Tagged a hobbit seeking Some precious-like offering. A frog learns your language, Kissed upon green cheek — Beautiful like a prince, preens in fashioned garb. In my quarantine eternal, I am the walls — Post signs in your woods So fair maidens giggle, move on. I'm unknowable in shadows; But I hear voices pleading, Like I'm a child lost In our game of hide and seek. You won't look for me, Marco -- Polo -- "Invalid Item"  |
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