Things Won't Be The Same

Life won't be the same again.

Restaurants will fill up again,

People greeting on streets again,

Supermarket aisles becoming sane again,

Music and chatter spilling out from pubs again,

But things won't be the same again.

Stadiums will roar again,

Beaches jam packed again,

School playgrounds screaming again,

Roads and motorways crawling again,

Yet nothing will be the same again.

A few more empty seats as families sit around booked tables.

A few less afternoon dog walkers taking it steady on old limbs.

The grey-haired lady who always asked a nearby young man to reach down a tin from the top shelf is not there.

The empty stool at the bar where the senior gent sipped his stout.

It won't be the same.

An unused season ticket - he was too young.

She loved the seaside - appeared so healthy.

He was the noisiest pupil - so quiet since his loss.

They took the long road trip at Christmas and Mother's Day - thought she'd be around forever.

It's all changed.

We hung out on social media, until it was all there was left.

Watched our TVs until they became our saving grace.

Played sport on consoles until they became our virtual reality.

Shopped everything from home until house arrest.

Change is coming.

We will reach out with hands unencumbered by electronic devices,

Go out to the shops trading in human contact,

Sit close in hectic offices where we look up from tiny screens into the wide expanses of each other's eyes,

No longer hold those at a distance for which only today can promise their proximity.