The days are short, while I do report,
as these times all do slip away.
The morning comes, as a hundred suns,
on every single day.
The acts unkind, do so unwind,
as the spindle sets to spin.
People of the world, their tops to twirl,
a chance once again.
That terrible tone, before the dawn,
is then heard about the land.
A warning sound is homeward bound,
as all do so well understand.
The siren's sharp shrill brings a chill,
as worries weigh in so strong.
All the night long, being so wrong,
so bewilders a weary throng.
A changing tide does soon subside,
as a new world comes along.
The happier times, the ones of rhymes,
to be so crucial in a song.
If perchance you may care to dance,
in life's unrelenting charade.
You'll be received, as one believed,
a fellow marcher in the parade.
If you quote my words today,
everything that I do say, be prepared.
A little self-respect makes all less circumspect,
then every child wins, all are spared.
Better times ahead, no more do we dread,
misgivings, without a reward.
Each positive refrain ours all to gain,
of our goals, pointing us forward.
© 2017 whonunuwho