I am turning into a poet:
There for a brief moment in time,
appear, what it seemed, a new time;
Where people hoped to call it a new Dawn,
beware, it seems to fade in present time.
Though, not lose all hope as forlorn,
although it seems to be a false dawn;
Perhaps with all the wishes,
forth might turn out to not so graven.
For what we, loyal folks might wish,
may not be all that is so greenish;
For we, who 'hope' they are all good,
In truth, will in time flourish.
There for a brief moment in time,
appear, what it seemed, a new time;
Where people hoped to call it a new Dawn,
beware, it seems to fade in present time.
Though, not lose all hope as forlorn,
although it seems to be a false dawn;
Perhaps with all the wishes,
forth might turn out to not so graven.
For what we, loyal folks might wish,
may not be all that is so greenish;
For we, who 'hope' they are all good,
In truth, will in time flourish.
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