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
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