The Pubs Are All Closed

Girls in short clothes
Still go by.
But, the pubs are all closed
And I
Feel the unreal, steal
Over England.

One should not
Shake a hand.
But the weather is hot
And girls in short clothes
Go by.
But the pubs are closed
And I
Voice the unspoken,
“How many little communities will reopen?
And how many die?”.

The pub is part
(And sometimes the heart)
Of local society.
How much variety
Will we lose?
Its not merely booze
But birds of diverse feather
Coming together,
Through diversity in unity.

I have the park.
But thoughts dark
Come to me.
Girls in short clothes
Still go by
But the pubs are closed
And variety
Can, so easily die.

6 thoughts on “The Pubs Are All Closed

    1. K Morris Poet Post author

      I fear you are right, Jo. However, on the other hand there has, for so long as there have been humans on this earth, a tendency to believe that the world is going to hell in a handcart. But, somehow or other humanity keeps soldiering on. Many thanks for your comment. Best wishes, Kevin

      Reply

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