Klaxon
You are an epic klaxon,
Blaring all around,
Often with solid points,
To beat into the ground.
You are a mighty foghorn,
Heard away from here,
Sometimes with things to say,
That sap away all cheer.
You are opinionated,
Though wrong; you are not,
When you speak of people,
And always spare a thought,
You’re capable of reason,
Which dilutes my stress,
Accepting what is said,
And knowing when to jest.

