Cocooning

  by Eleanor Collins--

 

A tender green spring morning and I’m no longer torn,

I’m supposed to be quite sad; I think I’m meant to mourn

But lockdown suits me well enough, no need to run here or there

My mind’s at rest, my thoughts are soft, I’m quite without a care

I Idly surf the internet,

But NOW I’m awake and damp with sweat

“What’s the problem with wrinklies dying?” they mock

Someday their hearts with grief will rock

The young with words as smooth as oil

From their selfish plans I do recoil

Yet they with silky skin will learn

They owe their lives to those they spurn

My head is aching, my body like stone,

I’m cut to the bone, my inertia has flown,

I think of my siblings, I think of dear friends,

But I take a deep breath, they’ll learn some time,

That life is so precious and old age no crime.

The earth belongs to all of us,

None indeed superfluous,

Some have two legs other four,

There’s room for all, let the moonlight in,

In every last wrinkle there’s beauty within.