Polling Day.

An unforgiving thick, black font
blares out a message through time.
Men with rosettes,
well wrapped up, safe and smug,
show their faces and smile.
They are thinking of nobody in particular.
People fought and died for this.
Way in.
Beware!

A list of humanity
crossed through one by one.
Numbers, names, roads, hearts.
A stumpy pencil tied to a string.
The worn edges
of a battered old black box.
It is time to make your cross.
Think on.
Take care!

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This entry was posted in Poetry..

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