Going back to the place of my early youth
was a big mistake.
Remembering the luscious meadows
air so clean singing birds.
Country lanes a small running stream
sound of an engine of steam.

The thick dark smoke billowing behind
through unspoilt land.
Our heritage there for everybody to enjoy
small villages and hamlets.
Animals of all kinds living without threat
no sounds of a passing jet!

Shocked at what  I saw and what time had done
no more the countryside.
Where such beauty had been a trading estate
the small town an urban mess.
No trees the stream now under a motorway
an unkempt park in which to play!

Traffic and fumes now filled my sad gaze
as I compared my memories.
And the happy days then safe to explore
all of our natures graces.
Standing on what was once a grass hillside
now under houses this did hide!

This seems the way of life today!

The Foureyed Poet.