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A cousin of mine from Singapore
calls at six in the morning, I am
at the main door unlatching, She warns
the mutation of the virus behaves
with a vengeance, Stay home!

I appreciate her concern, but
at the same time the caution
sends an alarm, Unable to go
ahead with the chores, I stand mute.

The sachet containing milk
lies in the basket fastened
to the gate, The newspapers
thrown by the boy remains
untouched.

The kitchen door is
closed, It is silence, a
frightening one, keeps
me ice cold, numbs my body
My mind draws blank.

Good use of detail, as in this stanza

The sachet containing milk
lies in the basket fastened
to the gate, The newspapers
thrown by the boy remains
untouched.

I think all of us have this cousin of yours

Hi meenas,

Workshop-share for your perusal & consideration Michael (MV)


Paralysis

A cousin of mine from Singapore
calls at six in the morning. As I am
unlatching the main door, she warns
the virus mutates with a vengeance.

Stay put at home!

I appreciate her concern,
yet the caution sends alarm
through my spine. Unable
to move ahead with the chores,

I stand potted
like an artificial houseplant.

The sachet containing milk
lies in the basket hung
to the gate. The newspapers lie
delivered to the yard, like stillbirth
never brought into the home.

The door to the kitchen,
a closed casket. Silence. Not golden;
prematurely gray. Its echoes, draining
the day-to-day white noise of its colors.

Your edit is wonderful and makes an interesting read.
The last stanza where the colours play a role is fascinating.
I have to redo, not at all, just copy and paste,
Thanks, Michael,