You thought you could enjoy a quiet life
where no one whinged or got into your face.
You had forgotten global barbs are rife
and how this world’s well-nigh bereft of grace.
You made attempts to contemplate the sky,
the beauty of the cloud formations’ shroud.
But then some closed-up ones gave you the eye
and said to dream and long you’re not allowed.
And so a banner here of quiet joy
I raise, in memory of a swordless soul
who only sought love’s patience to deploy,
and solely had deep quietness as his goal.
How hard it is on earth to wake the dead.
(“Those days will soon be gone”, a strange voice said).
© Copyright, Alan Morrison, 2021
[The copyright on my works is merely to protect them from any wanton plagiarism which could result in undesirable changes (as has actually happened!). Readers are free to reproduce my work, so long as it is in the same format and with the exact same content and its origin is acknowledged]