Other Propositions
Times won’t be the same again
Things are never simple,
neither black nor white,
shades of grey appear each day,
morning, noon and night.
Other propositions,
pulling out the weeds,
time spent in the garden,
and dissecting other needs.
New ideas colour fears,
times won’t be the same again,
the past is ancient history,
is the orchestral refrain.
We’ll learn to do things differently,
there’s time to re-design,
my usual way of thinking,
and write it down in rhyme.
What has passed has time to last,
more time for reminiscing,
and the question I must ask,
what am I really missing?
I miss those that are close,
and taking a long drive,
a road-trip of discovery,
that lets my senses thrive.
I’m also realistic,
some ideologies never change,
can we live much better now?
a concept not too strange.
In a blink the world will shrink,
here living on an island,
ship-wrecked sailors, one and all,
are we now in asylum?
Whilst pollies pull the levers,
it’s mostly left to us,
to buy a ticket to the future,
and then hop on the bus.
A journey done in juxtapose,
adds colour to the theme,
to an unknown future,
a scene seen in a dream.
Other propositions,
an empty canvas or a page,
ready for redemption,
we live in a new age.
©
David Rudder
27th April 2020
Thanks for reading.
