2020 and 2021
Twenty-twenty on his deathbed lies.
Most saw him with disapproving eyes.
Some prospered as they watched him grow.
But many looked at him
as a son of woe. Though
no wars did he bring -
his praises we
shall surely
never
sing.
In
our minds
has grown an
embryo – our
hopes now pinned on him.
This unborn child – will his
youth be sweet or grim? Will we
be proud to watch him grow? One can
never know! Oh, Twenty-twenty-one,
in your brother’s footsteps please don't follow.
Dec. 30, 2021
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment