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.


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