1969...

Daisies woven through long hair,
Purple hazy stuff fills the air,
Laughter echoes without a care,
Disapproving businessmen turn to stare.
Arms linked and hands warm,
With their sun, it cannot storm,
Jeans patched and holes torn,
Time to confront the social norm.
Faded words on a picket sign;
Hey, they think, maybe next time?
Nothing’s wrong when everything’s better than fine,
Basking in their own sunshine.
Love is the only masterpiece,
Beautiful thoughts they can’t release,
So as their numbers slowly increase,
It’s finally time for a revolution of peace.





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