In the Pink

and I am not yet three
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My little heart bled when I could not think
that I would have to be in lockdown till I was three or four
the way things are going now in this pandemic type of speech.
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In the pink, I suppose I am.
In the pink away from poor ’ole Pa and Nan.
In the pink away from my little folk at the weekend break.
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Now of course it is the same old coarse – no way free, no way safe to venture out for little ’ole me.
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What is it that I am to do?
What is it that now I am not even more than the age of one or is it two?
I have been in lockdown since … was it in the womb or from then on and since?
What type of world am I in?
Is it far from Nan and Pa and family across the borders
to where I am not sure
as I have not been able to venture past my own front door?
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The horrible state I am in here with my beloved mum and dad.
Course the cat but that is no longer any form of fun
for I am only able to walk when older
if able without some form of jab or such.
Can I be able to know what it is like
to have family other than the perpetual zoom at night?
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That’s it folks – lockdown orders from above
and not even from those stories of God and too of love.