Poetry

Green

written by: SNOWonPAPER

journal 1

There once was green in my town,
With grassy fields and Treelined knolls.
There was underbrush on creekbeds,
and willow trees on roadsides.

There once was BLue in my town,
With white fluffy clouds dancing on the air.
There were crystal clear ponds,
and streams that trickled through virgin woods.

I saw my fields become work zones,
the knolls and the the trees were cleared.
the underbrush pulled from the creekbeds,
amd wo;;ow tress removed down to the stumps.

Buildings that soared for miles,
Blocking my mountain views.
Reflective glass monuments to technology,
the rats race to homes of new.

Smokestacks cloud the skys,
It now lays a burden of constant gray.
Automobiles on roadways.
What say the squirrel king?

Oh there's green in my town,
on the golf course where buisness men play.
There's green on the football field,
this green is made by man.

The green was my once my power,
the green my inspiration.
Most of my green has died,
the trees and the brush and the knolls and the fields,
In a young man's eyes.

Robert Snow