Coronavirus – a Poem

My life’s ambition is to write a poem
For you to quiver in ecstasy,
Transcending the storms that have become
For us a weakly reminder
That all is not as it should be
For a generation to come
All out of shape without
Any need for eugenics,
Or medical scapegoats,
As my face takes on a comical twist,
And the log fires send out particles,
And governments negotiate continued support measures,
While the weathermen occlude
The longer stretch in the evenings,
But I won’t cough,
Lest it gives away the position,
And we enter the sublime
Reverence for irrelevance.
It’s word play OK?
Designed in their own way.
I can’t wait for the pattern,
Or the pull of Saturn.
Enough, enough, enough,
Your voice is increasingly rough,
Hand us over a last puff.