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Pollution
I’ve heard snow to be white and pure
Without a mark to taint its beauty.
But now I look at around, unsure.
What I see is not white
Is not pure.
Maybe once, it have might.
But what I see
Is a barren field of powdered dark
With not a tree
Allowed to grow
As the frost kills the seeds below.
I wonder what could have done this
But I know the answer.
The pollution could not miss
The lazy world
That did nothing
To protect that which pearled.
And now it is gone
Lost forever,
That which stretches on and on
Contaminated by the effluence
That none recognize as a strong influence.
I cannot see my reflection in the shadowed ice
And I feel alone.
Then, far in the distance pallid and nice,
A patch of nothing,
A patch of opportunity.
And, to be honest, it makes me want to sing
Because I know
Someday it can be fixed.
And one day we will sew
And when we reap
Life again will peep.
