POEM/A CYCLICAL MORNING

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The morning gives a soothing breeze,
Chilling, squeezing and cold with a freeze,
The nature taking its full course,
Hard on the skin, coldness with sheer coarse.

A dawn that glistens with its intricacies,
A cyclical life of yesterday, replicated in its majesties,
A break it would require to break free,
Money we labour over for untrammeled spree.

The new day to be spent, yesterday recycled,
No change, despite the economic barrage,
We trudge as we get stuck in the groove,
Another morning we pine, high on horse hooves.

We accept the day as it comes,
Change in our hands not it requires,
Call to God we need for a change in rage,
It will not tarry as we grow in age.