Fingertips on phone screens,
Cheeks against glass.
"New normal" routines,
When will this pass?
No kisses, just waving
From six feet away.
It's touch that we're craving
And permission to play.
But as daytime grows longer
And Spring rushes past,
We edge closer and closer
To reuniting at last.
We'll feel heat on our faces
And hear insects that hum,
Return to 'our' places,
My love, Summer Will Come.
By Gavin Jewkes