On an ordinary Sunday morning,
I feel an urge to send out a warning
to the blind and belittled human race. Fools.
And that little song,
pleasant and soft to my ears,
brightens up the day.
All around remains the knowledge of fate,
the sigh of the masses when it's too late,
as we stumble in blindness to the bright light.
And that pretty song
gives me an endless hope that
it's not over yet.
Claudia Fitzgerald
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-so-little/
