Poems by me.

pouring rain drums the land

a merry careless percussion band

wind-swaying chimes on hand

the wind whistling a plaintive stand

a wild melody both varied and grand

pouring rain drums the land

 

I sit before a fireplace

I sit and think of the human race

Wondering where we are heading

Where are my people leading

Are we to stand

Are we to fall

Will we rise grand

Will we need to crawl

Will we become more wise

Will we become fools

Will our lifespans rise

will we close our schools

I often pause and think such things

Although it’s not wise to worry

Misery such thoughts brings

 

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