That time again

As the night closes in on the weary,
her, me, she, he
we all take time to reflect
glad we’re still here in
what will become known
as
‘Year One’

it’s like,
the Bible gone wrong John.
the saviour’s decamped
and we’re all trapped in lockdown
in a block down in
Harlem.

was there ever a rose that grew there?
well I knew a few.

Good Friday!
what’s good?
me?
she
her
he?

happy Easter
may all your dreams come true,
but
chocolate eggs inside rabbits
who knew.

© 2020, John Smallshaw.