Balanced on this old seesaw

Looking in. we miss the  outer world
The  blossom hanging  from the vicarage wall;
An old man’s hat which by the breeze is whirled
The toddlers skipping in the Shopping Mall.

Now coffee shops are where we socialise
No more we labour over stove and sink.
And listening, hear what would not meet our eyes.
When for one little moment they both blinked.

And  yet we  long for time to be alone
To breathe more freely, play within our mind
For being far less solid than a stone
Impingements to our boundary  we find

As we balance on this old seesaw
We know nothing is static.life is raw.