He thinks the sun is rude
for blaring into his day;
She is simply happier
when couched in her mumbles of grey

 

Curtains drawn, blinds down
They have their blinkers on
They leave the paths untrodden
While the world chokes out a song

 

Their confinement is not a prison though
It's a choice that they embrace
They know the Earth keeps turning
At its' baffling, blurring pace

 

Books, jigsaws, crosswords, biscuits
That's their daily fare
There are few outside the 4 strong walls
Whose company they share

 

With photos on the mantlepiece
The kettle's always on the boil
The smell of their shared history
Of love, of pain, of toil

 

Nowhere to turn, nowhere to go
And - for today - no better place to be
For home is where the heart is
As long as the mind is safe and free