Follow The Rules

Follow the rules The old man sat in his high walled garden he had been a traitor to his country not a stern quisling but enough to be shunned by the people of this town who had hailed him agreat writer. His exile was self- enacted he still believed he was correct his right winged policies essential for his countries future, but he had no one's ear, so he wrote about the seasons his garden was big and fauns danced at twilight. He heard the radio Europe was changing people were tired of predictable democracy liberalism, vapid as morning mist, leaders were far removed from the people, freedom had become borderlesstyranny a dyke that could not stop the flood of hatred of those who were made to follow the rules? Perhaps his time had come the people would listen to him now.