The Virus a poem from Gretchen Brewer

Spring that comes but soon will pass; Must be seen thru lucent glass.

Dedicated men are tending gardens; Knowing the ground soon hardens.

Loving staff whose smile is  hidden; Still do come when they are bidden.

Halls that once did ring with laughter; Now must silent be, ’til after.

Meals on wheels to our doors harken; Come from dining room now darkened.

Residents behind closed doors; Hiding from a virus war.

OUR GOD weeps to see us suffer; Knowing that we will recover.

Loved ones then will be beside us; Laughter overcoming virus.

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