The future might not be bright

The Foodbank queue, snaked down the street
All colours, ages, a myriad of genders
Quietly shuffling forward, for something to eat
Passing pawn brokers, effectively money lenders

Unwritten queue rules, were abided by
No pushing, shoving, cutting in
No verbal communication, no contact by eye
No nipping off for the toilet and hopping back in

All your layers of clothes, dampened by rain
In days gone by, a bus driver would TOOT
The occasional whistle of a passing train,
Now nothing was heard on the sadness route

Empty shops, boarded up with wood
Littered streets, covered by CCTV
People would’ve broken in, if they could
And when I say PEOPLE, I include me

Cafes, restaurants, bars all gone
High street empty, no cars on roads
No one had money for having fun
I remember 2019, when there was loads

No concerts, events for TV to report
Schooling became a thing of the past
That’s when we stopped, having any sport
And we rationed everything, to make it last

But the virus came, we weren’t prepared
The blame was shifted, politicians lied
No matter, how much carers and NHS cared
Sadly TENS of thousands died

We went from a life of wealth and plenty
To a life of isolation and making do.
Yes, the Lockdown and trauma of 2020
Has - actually- even got worse in 2022