Carolyn May

Concrete Backyard

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


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


I gaze into the barren isolation

Welcome home

Concrete is my new backyard

Submitted: Thursday, April 10, 2014
Edited: Thursday, April 10, 2014

Topic of this poem: nature

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