An End of Year Poem
Twenty-Twenty
Gone were our daily ways this past year
As stories glared loud and true
We could have saved many deadly tears
If they only told us what they knew
We watched as lives were leaving us
Each day the numbers crushed
We tried not making much a fuss
As we wished please not name us
They promised relief was soon at hand
In ways not known before
It may take months to save our clans
As they rushed a Covid-19 cure
Our leaders throw us bones to pick
Their schtick we have known before
In hope that they have found the trick
So we soon can go outdoors
Until this horror ends and we
Can once again hold hands
I pray to he to please hear me
And save our promised land.
— WOLRAD(A Poem from the Wolrad Collection #64)
