Where did I leave my tea? This house is too big,
I know that, now I am having to clean it.
In these plague times Helen can’t come
so it’s me for the bucket and mop.
What do people miss most?
Being hugged? Bagging their last Munro?
I most miss Helen. Singing that hymn
has not, so far, made drudgery divine.
Three rooms done and still no tea.
People think more about death these days
and about the hereafter.
Might heaven be the place
where all my missing mugs of tea are?
Acres of time and we’re wasting it
Though some practise ‘thisness’,
focus for hours on the unique properties
of a kitchen chair. Others sniff flowers.
I am making a list of curious facts.
1 ‘The duration of this lockdown
is non-microwaveable. Like the mourning process
it cannot be hurried along.’
2 ‘Welsh-speak for microwave is ‘popty-ping’.
Ann Pilling 2020
This poem appears in my new book "Ways of Speech" published by Shoestring Press. For details click here.