CELIA'S POEMS

            No 98  June 23

            I’ll have a word with Boris,

            Find out his intent,

            I’m sure that he has no idea,

            Of my predicament.

            When he decided to lock us in,

            And we’d be at home each day,

            For however long he kept us in,

            I’d write a poem each day.

            I don’t think he must realise,

            The part I’ve had to play,

            To try to keep people happy,

            By sending poems their way.

            When are we getting out of this,         

            Perhaps you could give us a sign,

            I couldn’t do the job you do,

            But you could not do mine.

            So if suddenly we’re all set free,

            How lovely that would be,

            I want you to remember,

            That it was down to me.