On a day that is rare
When this man cannot care
When everything seemed a little bit sad
On this day he is almost glad
It seems very surreal
When there is no big deal
When the blood doesn’t boil
And the heart has a rhythm and no toil
The grass just seemed to be a little greener
Like the air in his lungs inhales something cleaner
When silence is a joy
When a man remembers the boy
That is shackled in a little corner of his mind
Hoping to play with a punctured football

When the clouds whisper goodbye and disappear
See you again son later in the year
When the mud and the upset start to recede
When the farmer can work and plant his seeds
When they finally pull down the broken bridges
And build up the earthquake damaged towns
When the politicians actually agree and make progress
Sweeping away corruption and numb the distress

Could be it ever be one day
In the not too distant future
Where the poetry isn’t about disasters
Or anxiety or depression or self-doubt
Will the words strike a chord or not at all
Am I repeating myself shouting at the wall
That’s crumbling away from foul play
Hopelessly built to collapse one day

One day where we all learn the lessons well
We try to stop sending each other to hell
That politics is not about murder and extremity
Maybe one day you will actually listen to me
Where football is played for the benefit of the community
No vulgar thugs just huge signs of unity
No permed lay about getting paid millions to foul
No over protected managers that only know how to scowl

One day where the schools have roofs and the rain stays outside
The kids are taught the truth and all about pride
That the walls of the schools protect little souls from harm
From twisted individuals who love to play with arms
One day where our taxes are spent wisely
On projects that benefit our wellbeing and sanity
That hospitals would cure everyone no matter their wealth
Because in the end the only thing divine is our health

One day we will all prosper and learn how to share
We will be kind and sincere and do what is fair
Let the elderly sit down on an overcrowded bus
Doing it because it’s moral and without any fuss
One day where grammar mistakes are ignored
Books are read and given a round of applause
Where poetry is the centre of every single community
One day when everyone will think good of me.

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