THE MOURNING SONG

I see a face outside my window
It’s a mirror of all life’s pain;
An echo of all my yesterdays
A silhouette from deep within my brain.

All around me children weep
As they see a new day dawning;
For the pain of life goes ever deep
And in their every move they’re mourning.

All the clerks and working class
Queue up in lines at railway stations;
While the old-aged and unemployed
Wait in line for pitiful rations.

Life has become a luxury
That so very few can still afford;
Yes, life has become sheer agony
For the billions, the teeming hordes.

Still the pollies in chauffeur-driven cars
Forge on with stern determination;
And console themselves in the knowledge
That they’re the backbone of this great nation.

THE END
© Copyright 2021, Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia