It comes with peace this silent age,
With an angry heart and teeth clenched in rage.
So, how so peace would it be if anger holds?
Wrath unkind, mellow, a love to unfold.
Silence. Upon the world to the top arise,
Smile intent with a new pair of eyes.
Fly the morrow, let the day pass unhurried,
Be at peace my little bird. No longer worry.
© Cynthia Clark