Through narrow, winding country lanes,
green and abundant hedgrows.
Where we discover at the centre of a tiny village;
A white cross and a few white steps.
At the top of the steps a man, can speak of bane.
And how the problems grow.
Right at the centre of the location, where once there was a pillage!
Hence the cross and steps, to discuss, whatever, in depth.
To speak of discussions and debates languishing pain;
On the diminishment of public crows:
A lot less was heard about life's spillage!
Or detailed of life's account, adept.
A collective of differing ideas and a man, in the main;
By education and a vote, shall say, what way to go.
And of life to remain villagent.
So our say is always kept!
Anita Griffiths.
"...so our say is always kept..."
You have a gift for verse and politic ~Lady A