The mighty Oak has lost its massive look!
The mother-trunk is old and dying fast;
Some aerial-roots in ground anew did hook;
Their smaller trunks appear just like a mast!
The hill I knew is just a mound right now:
It’s razed to almost level ground for sheep:
Its beauty gone, children cannot say, ‘Wow! ’
No meadows, trees now dot its sides, less steep.
Familiar things have vanished like a dream;
The landscape looks different but deceptive;
No more, I see the tamarind and neem;
More neighbors are strangers, less receptive!
Old lovely smiling faces can’t be seen:
Remaining few relatives looking mean!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-9-2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A capturing poem flawlessly written Dr. Celes! ! Thanks for sharing! ! *10*! ! Best regards Friend Thad