To the Rescue
To The Rescue
On certain days, it never
Ceased to drizzle,
The break in cloud, the days of
Sunshine more uncertain
Than his political convictions!
The conversations always
Mocked him, for there would be
Days he would dress for winter and;
The Sun would briefly show itself,
Making parodies of his intuitions persistence.
How he often fooled himself.
The days he loathed the most;
The days the full picnic basket never
Left the house - his plans, like puddles
Of confusion in his thoughts;
Wreaking havoc in his conscience,
Swamped by inaccurate conclusions -
Giving way to contusions of his mind.
Then there were the days he let
The Man upstairs himself be host,
Neither rain nor shine but both;
On these days,
When all the political tongues
For once ‘shut up,’
The world would cease its
And on these days he would smile,
Beholding all the colours of a Rainbow,
Glad he never knew it all,
Gladder still to be alive.
Michael J Waite 29th December 2009