Follow the rules

The old man sat in his high walled garden
he had been a traitor to his country not
a stern quisling but enough to be shunned
by the people of this town who had hailed
him a  great writer.
His exile was self- enacted he still believed
he was correct his right winged policies
essential for his countries future, but he had
no one’s ear, so he wrote about the seasons
his garden was big and fauns danced
at twilight.
He heard the radio Europe was changing
people were tired of predictable democracy
liberalism, vapid as morning mist, leaders
were far removed from the people, freedom
had become borderless  tyranny a **** that
could not stop the flood of hatred of those
who were made to follow the rules?
Perhaps his time had come the people would
listen to him now.