Marching To The Polls
As we creep ever closer toward the day,
What will we find along the way?
Dead people pulling levers, oh my!
Zombies shuffling as demanded
Putrid arms lifting lever as commanded.
Will there be folks dropped off in funny cars,
Or silvery leaflets from Mars?
Will the hidden magician pass the plate
As he does a switch and bait?
Will there be headless horsemen dropping by
To rein terror on all who do not decry
“Hillary the Witch – self-proclaimed winner this try.”
Or, will the men of 1776 visit here?
Even in the dark stix will they appear?
Wrapped in torn and tattered Old Glory
Shifting foot to foot, awaiting the story
Of how we fell in a score of years
Defiling their memories of sweat and tears?
Or, will we hear the sound of soldiers nigh
As they go softly marching across the sky
Singing in unison stirring the leaves as they fly
Oh dear lady of light
What have they done this night?
Rumbling as they pass –
Where are all the patriots, alas?
Have we died for naught,
What have our children wrought?
I’m not much of a poet and won’t win a laurette – but well, its how I feel. –Uriel–