The Quiet Poem by Phil Soar

The streets are quiet, and doors are all closed
Windows opened and people disposed
No sound of the traffic, along the main road
A deep eerie silence, as if minds might implode

While nature gets on with it's everyday tasks
People around it are wearing their masks
Trying to keep all the nonsense at bay
Hoping the virus will soon fade away

Knowing the fact it will not disappear
But hibernate somewhere and cause mental fear
While life goes full circle, and fate takes a hand
For some it's too much, and all that they can stand