A Night Fraught with Life

 

It could be the cup or the tea,
but it seems different to me.

As I drain the contents within,
there seems to be a swelling din.

“What do we want?”, they chant.
“A return to our jaunt!”, they rant.

Fascination aroused,
I walk to the corner.
Throngs massed together,
fighting with naught but honour.

The sun is sinking,
and the sky fades to red.
All of a sudden,
there is only dread.

Mischievous innocence,
never meant to participate.
The air is thickening
with a white precipitate.

One door, two door,
three door, four
Are you alright?
Do you know the lore?

A lane of independence
turned from green to grey.
A symbol of the president
whose power we must fray.

For much too long,
still have we lay.
There used to be lazy optimism,
but now there is only dismay.

We’ve been fighting,
for many a day.
Banging on pans,
ever since May.

You think we have failed?
Maybe so, but only today.
Alas, we can succeed,
We must just follow this way.

As I walked away,
I could think only nay.
This hope for a ray,
I could think only nay.

But outside I was mistaken,
for everyone was still gay.
Trading stories and sorrows,
everyone was ready to make hay.

It’s been years since I left,
maybe never to return.
It may seem they have lost,
But to them, I’m sure its just an adjourn.

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