My last day on furlough,
So, with trepidation,
I pack my computer
Then head for the station.
These one hundred days
At home, in the garden,
With chocolate and wine
As my arteries harden.
Mixed feelings have I
Of this time spent at home,
My journeys restricted
To dreaming alone.
Back in the real world,
Where all things will change,
I nervously view this
As frighteningly strange.
We must all move forward,
I’m forced to admit,
But I rather liked furlough,
At least, most of it.
