Their Weight In Gold Poem by Shaun Cronick

Summoned again,
To my workplace.
By superb people,
I won't embrace.

A distant chat,
But a lengthy one.
This virus reality,
We'll overcome.

Tomorrow morning,
Early and bright.
I leave my abode,
With sheer delight.

On quiet roads,
I'll venture on.
Don't Stop blaring,
A Fleetwood Mac song.

The kettles on,
For Assam tea.
When I arrive,
Waiting for me.

For duty calls,
A museum to protect.
Exhibits to look after,
And people to respect.

Good friends I've got
The salt of the earth.
Their weight in gold,
Is what they're worth.