|Far Away on a Long and Winding Road, North Hampshire Moors|
When it's normal for the teachers and the nurses not to care,
Then how can those, who’re caring, not be driven to despair?
When the ones who've done the damage can then shrug and slumber deep,
Then how can those, who're trying still to fix it, hope to sleep?
When the people still are racing, when they should be paying mind,
Then where can those, who're slowing, ever be – but far behind?
When the madness has afflicted all the world, can then the sane
Not see that they will be the ones that others call insane?
When dishonesty's expected, can the honest then not know
That they will be suspected, wherever they may go?
When the hearts of most have hardened, can the ones of softer heart
Not understand the time has come for them to then depart?
There's a road, amid the moorlands, that winds through waving fields,
With sunshine and with shadow, as every fortune yields.
And on that road I'll travel as clouds go sailing by,
With none who'll care to ask me my permit or my why.
And on that road I'll dally and take my own sweet time,
For there I'll take my tally, with reason and with rhyme.
2015 March 13th, Fri. 2:33 am
(last stanza added March 15th, Sun.)
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York