The Anchor By Lummy Grillo

The podium is set
Metals in check
For the anchorman await
With calling and rate,
With love above all.

Life is a race
Needing to be traced
For a guide is what we seek fast
For even what we see don’t last.

A ceilidh is set
Man in charge is near
But wallowing in pains and tears,
For the beauty of the world ,
Luring and captivating
Taken the heart of the create chores

He was no human
But an anorak
Caring and catering
Our needs,
Upholding in troubles
Strong and firm,
Yet all is set in turmoil.

Seconds counting
Numbers are days
He is coming
To place in order
Parties set,
Making us the uninvited organizers.

By:Lummy Grillo