A Sonnet for World Politics


The morning tea is never a quick fix,
As over it, my dad and granddad discuss politics.

From the England’s Brexit heirloom,
Trump’s insane hypothetical rules,
Over Trudeau the population drools,
Is politics really out of men’s room?

Their promises ever so incandescent,p4
But the worth seems simply evanescent.


People are dying,
Black, white, yellow and brown,
Children are crying,
And the leaders await their crown.

Are good days impending bloom,
Or are we up for impending doom?


About Arshi Dokadia

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