Loud
Can’t think of anyone who’s verecund,
All the famous are loquacious,
Boasting, bragging, oh so sure,
Hanging in important places.
I wonder, does that power,
Go straight to their heads?
Are they still the greatest,
When they’re lying in their beds?
Does the thought of a great headline,
Make them smile when morning breaks?
Is there a quiet space somewhere,
Or a time when their hearts ache?
The loudest will yet pass away,
The most powerful will fall,
Take heart all you of lowly birth,
When you hear their boisterous calls.
Anne Selleck
Copyright 2020
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