No More A Lawn


It is my lawn
that is my concern.
Once lush green
looks pale now.

The grass is scarce
in shafts and tufts.
The soil is obvious
dry and withered.

That of a past glory,
the lawn is like an empire
ruined by foes,
a skeleton of the grandeur.

The pathetic status
makes me lament.
I feel sore and sad.
hastily wipe my tears.

A seasonal effect people claim,
unable to reconcile. I break down.
The well laid sprawling grass
disturbs me in my sleep.

 

 

 

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