Walking home late this afternoon ,
past O familiar streets and shops ,
past all too familiar faces ,
their completions tired and worn,
but they wore masks with smiling faces ,
as they all dragged behind their backs their  heavy loads
Their  coats and dressed torn ,
and they kept looking to the skies ,
as if for a sign which never came ,
to lighten their brand new morn .

It wasn’t dark yet ,
yet enough light not for me to fumble for a match to light my  candle ,
so to mark the way before my eyes .

But at this unGodly hour how life could suddenly change .?
For no man or child or lady would ever now be the same .

For a sneering darkness now covered this land ,
it’s clouds now formed likened to a doll like features ,
of staring eyes and porcline face .
It winked ,
then smiled ,
it’s deadly grin .
So  when they pulled their loads ,
they never gave in .






In labotories ,
in Petri dishes ,
under microscopic lens ,
It took to flight
and called them it’s friend .

But as ***** stalk their prey
Untill it’s nothing but skin and bone ,
this life form filled-the.  skies ,
as we mask our lives from its breath ,
we call death ,
Is hid before their eyes .

But only when the day gives up its fight ,
and men hold up lanterns ,
Which shed no light ,
and.  they return screaming back to their homes ,
only to wait for morning to lighten their loads .

And so in a land far away a little girl came in to play ,
she picked her doll up from the floor ,
then placed it in its doll house as it was before .
Just at that moment the sun came out ,
birds sang ,
as the crocus bloomed ,
In all its many colours .


And then I heard the first lark of spring ,
O what a pritty little thing
O what joys it brings,
as man gave up the loads he bore .,
and so they danced untill their feet were sore .

For there canst finds me no sweeter thing ,
than this little birds reward of spring .