The panic by Ann Wood
"For three days the crowd picks the shopsThe city cafes were shaking the General's roar.
The panic was terrible once again.
Dense hordes crawl to the local Billa
Seniors are coughing hard -
sheep after sheep, fool after fool.
Security points the sign again
and yells:
- Hold on! One sign in!
And the crowd was startled.
Will finish the rice!
- Come on in! They heard from the door!
And in a moment the herds rushed.
With baskets, bags, carts,
ready to stock everyone
they push and bump without a signal, in a row.
Everyone is looking only to be ahead
and expose your lungs to a virus,
but more pasta in the bag to put.
The rattles are roaring, the cashiers are roaring
- Take it a little, it's a corner!
They do not remember the heat, the thirst, the fear.
They need to get canned peas!
That the virus scares them - it reads in the eyes,
if we run out of paper -
to network better!
There are no gels, no alcohol, no mask:
someone sneezes and everyone is startled.
An employee goes, will order the goods
and everyone rushes in that direction
Grab paper! - some screamed
and flocks of fools thundered.
The cashiers stopped the second time they didn't see
without the promotion of retiring so retired.
And this shop will be emptied in an instant.
Then they need to stock up on gasoline too.
To this day, there is still news in the news,
everyone is panicking, but what to do?
How to fight a pandemic is contagious
with stomachs full and head empty ... "
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2020-03-24 at 12:37
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