The Mask

I so dislike the mask
I’m sure it has to be
But now I cannot see
Your smile or Hear your laugh.

It just doesn’t sound the same, more like a huff.
Driving up to the Toll Booth to pay
“Hello sir,”  “Sorry, Ma’am.”
It’s the mask you see, I could not see.

When will this be over?
Tomorrow, Next Week, Next Month
Please NO, NO - Not next year!
I so dislike the mask.

But I wear it!

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About the Author

Currently residing in Gardner, Kansas. Retired Finance Executive, College Adjunct Professor, and Army Veteran. A Writer Colony Alumni and member of the Kansas City Mystic Poet Society. An award-winning poet. His poetry has been published in a variety of magazines and in a recent book about the pandemic.

John L. Swainston
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