The streets are empty, the crowds too small,
And no trace of life, outside my Beacon Hill office at all.

 

It’s hard to stay focused and write what’s upbeat
When you see friends gloved up, right here on Charles Street.

 

And difficult to smile behind the white mask
When waiting for clients becomes my main task.

 

I write rhymes for the happy times and those that are good
It is a challenge when there is fear in my dear neighborhood.

 

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