My son concentrates
At the whirr of the sewing machine,
Thread making wondrous patterns on fabric.
My daughter paints her trainers,
Acrylics in blue, red and white,
Making something unique.
My youngest daughter giggles,
As she designs and develops online,
Constant calls from magnificent, chatty friends.
I bask in a glory
That my words will be published again,
That I still have something worthwhile to say.
We are a creative team,
Struggling, sometimes, in this lockdown,
But united in our imagination.
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