All Is Not Right
.
Down where the oregano blooms
The fog is thick as milk
It is stretched out like a cheese cloth veil
Or a dress of fine silk
The moisture drips from Oaks and eves
Birds sing a soft morn's song
Roosters crow across the small creek
As if now nothing's wrong
Ah! All isn't right in our world
Fog's covering of gray
Says wrong isn't black but shades of white
Injustice oft displayed
When did it become right to hide
Sin, by sinning much more
Has God's morals changed here lately
Will He even the score?
Finis'
Sara
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