PARADES

Banners, boots and buttons,
batons and marching feet,
pounding out the rhythm 
of their drummers in the street.

Red and gold and silver,
black and red and white,
all the rainbow whirling, 
turning in my sight.

And all the while the music, 
the individual ear
picking up its merriment, 
the things it wants to hear.

But, soon before you know it,
the parade has come and gone.
It has left you standing by the road 
holding your own song.

Now, you can go and join it 
or you can stand and stay.

The choice is yours to make my child,
I'll look the other way!

By Linda A. Copp ©
January 1, 1971