The roads of my town
look so bad. Emanate stench.
Carry bags green, red, pink and white
 paper cups, plates lie in piles.

Hailed as disposables they
get distributed on the terrain
fly when the wind blows, rise high
being light. Remain an eyesore.

The sweepers clean and load in trucks
dump the disposables in a yard.
Garbage arrives every day.
Freshness  remains undisputed.

Governance, otherwise inactive,
has banned the usage of plastics.
A sea of change has taken place.
My town is back to the old days.

Each one carries a cloth bag 
vessels to buy oil and milk,
jute twines return. Eateries 
serve in plantain  leaves.

Glasses have come back.
Wooden spoons and hay straw 
enter. It is heartening.
Mother Earth looks serene.