They're tired, poor babies, and they've
Gotten crabby. Everyone seems to be
Telling them no. They're not to go on
Doing things which hurt others. They're
Not to make messes or burn up the earth.
They're sick of the sickness and efforts
To end it. They're hemmed in and no
Longer having much fun, so they're
Throwing a tantrum, shouting and whining,
Saying they'll never surrender their
Freedoms, and, also, they won't go to bed.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 21 times
Written on 2022-01-14 at 23:05

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I read your poem and immediately saw that you could be talking about the workers in 'ten Downing Street, London' - about whom, some are excusing their wining and partying during Covid lockdowns for their being 'exhausted' at the end of the day slaving behind their desks!
I realise that you weren't aiming arrows in London's direction, Lawrence, but you fine poem made me think that way.