Quarantine

Shravya Sethi, 11

The light, not of sun
The clash of a noise
Coming from the box
It’s not quite a toy

The smell of a cake
wafting from the oven door
you dive in and say
“I really want more!”

A mask of protection
For others, not you
So that when you sneeze
The germs can’t get through

Digging holes, making new life
Planting more, watching them thrive
Aching back, going to sleep
Joyous cries, seeing them strive

A flight past the houses
I’m a blur, on two thin wheels
pumping my feet, dirtying blouses
The sensation is surreal

And sitting at home
On the couch, all alone
This year we shall stare
silently at our phones