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I put my head in my hands
By R.P. McKeon (2004) I put my head in my hands On that cold winter’s night. November 2nd if I recall Yeah that’s right.
Cold as the dickens, Ice on my beard. The night had me wondering, Full of the fear.
I called out in the blackness, Yelled loud as I could. But not a word could be heard, As if it should.
The wind turned and blew stiff, Smack to my face, Fell flat on my ass, Then left in disgrace.
I looked to my left And then to my right, No one had seen, No souls in sight.
Then suddenly the wind The rain and the cold, Turned into a warmth That softened my soul.
Left startled and stranded A little bit dazed, I sat and I pondered As if lost in a maze.
Till sunset I sat And watched the clouds roll. Still full of that feeling That softened my soul.
The blue, red, and purple In the sunset that eve, Gave life a new meaning Something to believe.
All women and men, Dead from the war, For all of their fathers And mothers I swore,
Never again will your children be used To flex as a muscle or used as a tool. Sent to protect the interests of few, Unarmored and weakened by the rush of the fumes.
So that feeling I had Of warmth after cold, Is the same I will have When the new becomes old.
The president of The US of A Has served his last term, Do not dismay.
Our eyes are now opened, Minds wide awake, Bush will get out of dodge For heavens own sake…
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