Bronze frogs and dreamy fish in lily pond,
Blow bubbles in silver moonlit splendor.
Humans sleep, wrapped in viral misery,
Dreams of normalcy fill their cluttered minds.
What though is normal? Myriad thoughts abound,
No two experiences quite the same,
Each second of existence different,
Past times impossible to recreate,
At best we may sometimes approximate.
Memories fail in tandem with clapped out
Computer hard drives, piled high, awaiting
The rigours of the recycling plant.
I recall the time when I too set off,
As normal, to blow bubbles at the moon.

Harry Rogers, In The Red Bedroom, 29th April 2021.


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