A grain of sand, a word

I was feeling kinda lonesome so I put the radio on
I guarantee it will light up and it will show Welcome
Yet even when I had it on, it did not fill my needs
I still have in my own heart a wound that freely bleeds

I heard the sparrows chirping, a wren flew near my house
I bet that they were going home to nestlings and a spouse
They have no central heating, they never have to shop
They do not have induction hobs,their children don’t drink pop

The maple tree, the holly, the sycamore, stand tall
They have not got a Nobel Prize,vocations nor a Call
Can my trees communicate, can they have a chat?
They never go on holiday nor wear a straw sun hat

Yet here I sit alone yet calm, listening for his knock
How did Anne Boleyn cope, her head on that old block
If Henry thought God was displeased for he took his brother’s wife
Why would he think that God approved when he took a woman’s life?

It must be bloody agony for people on Death Row
Yet here I sat and got annoyed, the pandemic was a blow
We do have our computers, our TV and our drinks
Should good people suffer ,we feel we are exempt

My arms rise up and open wide, to love this whole wild world
I am just a particle, a grain of sand , a word

I welcome comments and criticism

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