The Cell

Quarantine, self isolation, and the psychology of solitary imprisonment led me to this poem:

The Cell

Locked in a cell, no escape
Marking days, one by one
This way life is given shape
Until the end of days is done

Through the bars, a different sight
I espier a meadow wet and green
Dappled bushes in weak sunlight
Trees bare, their leaves unseen

Now is the winter of the soul
Snow begins to fall, so white
A time that slowly takes a toll
In isolation: my poor plight

Cold and dark inside the cell
And I retreat inside my shell