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He yelled at God!
I heard him! I heard him do it!
What do you mean? I can’t hear him.
Oh must’ve been sleeping.
I did hear him. He yelled at God!
…I heard him do it.
Let me explain something to you
What was all about
Here’s the case:
Two children
One six, one eight
A shining sky above them
of royalty spawned
They loved their mom
their daddy, their king
Each morning they awakened
more blissful than days before
This joyous family of four
Every day
they found only laughter in store
Of four, then three, two, one
All had gone now
All new roads to trod
far moved, their separate ways
Three live, now on
An abode with strangers remain
Where they once did play
is vacant
So empty of love
where they once did play
Well, I was still dreaming
and after I woke
on a gray April day
It became another morning
what seemed to be
an endless, forever
appearing for merchants
Unable to recap
what struggled before them
Promises never kept
Only prayers to say
Only searching for a higher power
then pondering the likes
If only it might come his way
Then as a reminder
meer but remembered
it came from within
Time to rest
during the grace of sleep
Doubtful…
Would God ever yell back?
Some forty years ago,
or I believe it was then,
if memory permits me to recall,
I wrote a playn
I called my play:
“Too Late for Dreams”
The play was about many
others who might have been like me,
Going through life
posted in weakened position
Revealing itself
A Dad (like me)
A Mom (like she)
Two girls (not nearly as stable as mine)
Their day by day life
better than fine.
What they all were
What they might become
not yet determined by society.
He yelled, early on:
“When is it over?
Too Late for Dreams?”
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