These Days
The hovering heavy clouds of a Monday,
Where behind tight windows
Those who once were a part of God’s world
Wander hidden away from others.
Where once more they wash and rewash and clean,
And fear the presence of their neighbor,
Where they hide behind tight windows
And long for their children locked away.
Where telephones ring with hollow sounds,
And grown children’s faces are researched,
While tears roll and grocers toll for business struggling,
We gaze at lonely unkempt trees and hope
Hope for a brighter tomorrow,
When hovering clouds of a Tuesday
Stand tall and waiting.
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