'Tranquillity'

I must find some tranquillity, before I reach senility, 

To flee the noise of modern day, is all in life I ever pray,

 With youth in cars going round and round, emanating music sound

Of deafening proportion, how on earth their ears can stand the row,

And boys who ride small motor-bikes, like chain-saw screams, the noisy tykes,

With Summer's windows open wide, the neighbour's hi-fi's hard to hide,

These high-powered cars that go so fast, with engines that are built to blast,

Low-flying planes that scream aloft, why cannot all our noise be soft,

Dogs that bark into the night, make sleep an ever-losing fight,

Where is this place so void of sound, I'll hear a leaf fall to the ground,

And marvel at the thrush's song, Dear God, may this place not be long

Before I find it, is it wrong to criticise those folk who share

No thought for others, not a care

Who they may irk in things they do, regardless of you, me, us two,

I long for some tranquillity, before I reach senility,

The peace of nature beckons me.... yes, that's the place I long to be.

© John Pemberton 1997