Still Will I take out the plants where they grow
In coloured green patches with an amazing glow.
In places where the birds seek their asylum
Are the ones with dirt, rust and garbage.
Despised they are, where half the city throws
Are the ones with dirt, rust and garbage.
Despised they are, where half the city throws
Its empty bottles and snubbed trash.
This is the place to be cushioned and saved
Or else we will cry out with our turned craven faces.
If the place abounds with rich life,
You would love its astounding birds plunge in
You would love listening to its august birds sing
You would love to ogle at the sunset over its layers.
We know they bring us joy in so many ways
So I tell you
Oh you with a craven face,
TURN BACK, as life would be so very dismal in their absence
© Parvaizshagoo.blogspot.com
No comments:
Post a Comment