My Adopted Burg

My Adopted Burg Once upon a time I saw the vibrant Roses on your streets, festooning both sides. Now some of those appear wilted, as if Mauled by a virulent strain of fungus. Now I see frosted feet seeking cover, Marooned in river of woes flooding streets. I see them pushing their stuffed shopping cart to better grounds to escape the rigors. Magnolia-lined boulevards still criss- Cross forbidden avenues, passing through Manicured grounds of opulent bungalows, Trimmed with the sharp tools of gardeners: Still stand prim and proper. Gardeners fear Master's fierce dog-whistle. Still plot to Be on the level ground to realize The recurrent dream of whiffing fragrance On the other side of gulf. Which they can Only guess since their senses are muffled. ©2020 Aman