I rise up, cheerful, smiles to purvey
Greeting friendly faces without a slight delay.
I whistle tunes of joy abounding
Echoes of delight resounding.
Noon soon comes and fun now leaves
Slipping away like treasures and thieves.
Grumbles set in and hot temper flares
Stress causing whit’ning of fast dwindling hairs.
But soft, the solar sphere wanes low the line
of sight, yet the fury is still smold’ring fine.
Away, I pray; I shall not keep this rage
And so to God I go for help to turn the page
on past bitterness, angst, anger and resentment
that might cause me great sorrow and cloud my discernment.
The sun has gone down, angry I am not
though wary to be righteous when and where I ought.