Green should be my middle name
I’ve always longed for a grass filled haven
or a forest full of foxes, perhaps
I breathe in the spring air on a rainy day
Fresh like tulip buds in new soil
I am a woodland creature
and this is my playground
And I’ll happily play until the moon tells me to sleep
And then I’ll awake to song birds welcoming the morn’
with their sweet shanties
But reality has struck like lightning
For this forest is not my real home
it is but a vacation that I never wish to leave
The longer I try to hold on
the more I suffer because time is my enemy
And time is slipping through my fingers
Time and time again
I march on with my chest held high
I enter the concrete jungle
A whirlwind of memories hits me like a tropical storm
I fall to my knees
I exhale the sticky pollution out of my lungs
And I realize
that the forest was only a utopia
A fantasy world
Woodland creatures do not exist
How could I forget
that fear and isolation are my real middle names
I call out for mother nature
Silence
Where are the foxes?
How could I be so deluded
into thinking that this jungle would spring into life
This jungle is as extinct as a volcano
Alone
I gaze into the barren isolation
Welcome home
Concrete is my new backyard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem