He drivels, mouthed of foolish gall-

Believes in wrath and vapid gain.

But after reeling on this call,

He feels that life will live in pain.

His friend, he bickers, nothing wraith,

In forms the others saw, not, then. 

A button in his world, his faith,

A faith that’s realized, only when.

So he awakens in a huff.

He sees his fortune, self sublime.

He hopes it saves him, knowing guff.

But love regards itself in time.

A helping manner breeds concern,

A selfish manner does it, too.

A dove in training leads it’s burn.

A person blooms in time, it’s true.

A blooming sun in dates he lives 

Is stricken down in times of past

Where light reminds us life one gives

Is lived in yore as well in last.

March 21, 24