The Last Days of 'Seventeen

It's Christmas time again, and political

messages between gloomy tunes on the telly

seem to sum up a strange year, two

thousand and seventeen put to bed, the 

millennium sat uneasily beside a cranky teen.

Now enters an adult, with a key to the door,

here to unite a kingdom once more,

here to stand up to global terrorism,

here with gloves on and fists up, professional

demolition for the good of the nation.

Anything extra is a bonus, but the protection 

and safety of these waters, and the stability

of our people require this young adult to be

learned, to understand the Millennium,

what went before, philosophy over brute force.

Knowledge and respect of our neighbours,

our brothers and sisters suffering in far lands,

genuine charity requires nothing in return,

as time rolls on, so should the wheels of aid,

to every jungle and desert and slum.

2018 is now at the door, waiting to enter

as, in general, the world holds its breath

hopes for change, an end to the bloodshed,

for the cranky teenager to be banished forever,

and replaced by a respectful, sensible adult.