Shrinking

My grandfather walked across these acres where the wind roams fresh and free,

And the tiny canals are bordered by the graceful palmyra trees.

His house was open to all that came as was his generous heart:

He never had much money and never felt its want.

I live in the city and grow potted plants in my tiny balcony:

And the seasons pass me by in air-conditioned monotony.

I sometimes feel so myopic- focused on time and money:

I’ve forgotten how we used to live with Life in harmony.

My soul sits crouched over– soap-operas and synthetic dreams;

Has forgotten the smell of grass and flowers and softly flowing streams.

 

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