My Garden

Once we had a nice garden,
flower bushes, fruit trees all around,
everywhere planned greenery surround,
planted by my forefathers then;

in fear of stepping a green someone,
one never walks on the ground,
we children then were astound,
seeing carpet of rose, orange or lemon;

they tamed the wild forest green,
to create the green so mild,
but my brothers and I’ve been,
bent on destroying green world, wild;

now the barren desert seen,
has stolen the smile of my child.


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