An Ode to Quarantine
Here,
in the kitchen of many memories
lies new ones.
New memories of dinner
amongst two people
as they think about
those who cannot dine with them.
In the kitchen of many memories
conversations are lost
as hours together
leave for little to be discussed.
In the kitchen of many memories
There are dirty dishes, 
old food, dying flowers,
open wine bottles,
all left for the next day
in which no one can leave.  
Surrounded
by the sounds of country music,
I find the joy of new noise.
My mother swaying,
finding joy in mine. 
We both find the rhythm,
moving in a comfort
that had once been lost.
Surrounded
by the smell of moms cooking,
finding excitement in
her creation. 
Surrounded
by a love that not even
you can destroy. 
Only you
can make something
that once seemed so normal
become so dreadful.
Only you can 
take moments that used
to be natural and
turn them into something
seeming so forced. 
Only you can
uproot all stability in my life,
yet continue as if you
are not to blame. 
But you are.  
--Taylor