The Downsizer. Poem by Jak Black

Ill health struck him down, he no more could cope,
A rapid downshift, to a slippery slope.
He's transferred to a box, of concrete and brick.
Windows and doors made of glass and plastic.

Blank bland boxes, hermetically sealed,
Stacked in neat rows where once was a field.
He's no longer master of all he surveys,
He'll now pace a cage ‘til the end of his days.

No one to speak to, he no longer feels free,
He sits all alone just watching t.v.
There's little to do by night or by day.
The world, that he knew, has drifted away.

Once he was happy but now he despairs,
His prospects have crumbled, and nobody cares.
The mountain, the valley, the river, the stream,
The world that he loved but a memory, a dream.

No more will he walk among sheep and cows,
Or watch squirrels at play way up in the boughs.
Nor see, one more time, wild rabbit or fox.
For life now, and death, is confined to a box.