One quiet, sultry Sunday
I sat, thinking, over the city
Sounds were small, yet strangely clear
The traffic throbbed, deep continuity
Layers of cloud hung in the sky
Pressed on the mind, skewered the eye
Normal to the horizontal
Rise a thousand similar lines
Framed, a million tiny apertures
A billion grams, a zillion dynes
Of concrete, tempered steel and glass
And yet, it seemed, alas, no grass.
No grass, no trees,
no flowers, no shrubs
No streams, no glens,
no meadows more
No worms, no birds, no butterflies
Eaten in expansion's mall
And all the joys I knew before had gone
Had gone, forevermore
For one, brief moment, lost in time
Nostalgic memories waffled me back
I cry out loud, my arms embracing
A futile grasp at all I lack
For one, sweet instant, all anew
I smelled the morning meadow dew
Reality will have its day, a moment
And the mood was gone
I came to look, I stayed to pray
But marveled at what man had done
And yet, I wondered what he won
He gained the sky
And lost the sun.
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