My Grandpa used to tell me tales of a place so full of life.
A place he lived when he was young, long before he took a wife.
The place was full of huge old oaks with trunks as thick as cars.
With branches perfect for climbing to the top to grab some stars.
A beautiful river ran close to the trees, that was rich with perch, trout, and bass.
You could watch graceful deer as they bent low to drink from this cool, crystal-clear looking glass.
He told me of bears that came down from the hills to catch fish to take to their young.
He described mountain lions with 'camouflaged' fur, and the strange sound they made with their tongue.
The butterflies, flowers, the crickets and frogs--God's creatures living under one sky.
The world sounded peaceful, beautiful and right. Grandpa's piece of paradise pie.
Well, my Grandpa passed away last week, and I went there to pay my respects,
And I wanted to visit where Grandpa had lived, no matter how deep in the sticks.
So, my cousin who lives there said he would drive, and off in his Ranger we drove.
On a road paved with asphalt, with four lanes on each side, over railroads, viaducts, and coves.
When the Ford stopped its motion, I looked 'round at the site of a man-made, cement water-fall.
And I wondered out loud where this place might be? My cousin took me to a mall!
But, I wanna see where my Grandfather lived! Where's the trees... the flowers... the deer?
Where's the bear and the beautiful river? I smell fish, so we must be quite near.
Oh no. What you smell is the retention pond. It flowed over last week from the rain.
And the government dammed up the river, to give rich folks up state nice terrain.
The bears were once a big problem. Why you couldn't sit in your yard.
But, most of 'em were shot and some are in zoos. Elimination wasn't too hard.
Well, I sat there and thought of my Grandpa's pie. Had we lost sight of the 'plan?'
Will our kids think that NATURE was folk-lore? Will we survive the progress of man?
3-98
|
| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem or story about your worst nightmare. If submitting a poem change the type to poem on the submission page. |
Author Notes
Our hopes for the future will be in how well we teach our children that the Earth does NOT belong to us. We are just borrowing it, and we should leave it in better shape than we found it, for the next generations.
|
|
