The shifting clouds pull in the dawn as
The busy, determined ones arise.
Birds relentlessly singing to winds,
The sound of the morning quiet as the trees,
Blow and blow until the sun comes to scene
The mornings, bright as light,
And the evenings dark, pitch black
Still all hearts remain unwavering,
Waiting for the one morning their sorrows would seem to end.
Fighting to plan for the morrow,
We simply wait in excitement
Expecting what we'd never pursue,
Praising what we haven't achieved
And waiting vainly for those at the tip
To pour some wealth, oh little gracious them .
As always in knowledge with wisdom
Like sheep living amongst wolves
Our down days would move most upward
When we're broken beyond dust
Cause there and then, there's no other way to go but up.
I hope you enjoyed your read ❤️
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Splendid poem dear. A poets ink never dries up. More ink to your pen, keep spilling creativity
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