green shoots amid the clutter and decay?
Is there anything now remaining in
the verdant fields where I used to play?
I remember when the sun shone so bright
on every warm and wondrous summer day.
Now there's not a single sunbeam in sight
just a rubbed out sky filled with clouds of gray.
The front porch where I'd sit and play my games
is littered with leaves like some lost bouquet.
The doors hang crookedly on twisted frames,
the wind shakes the walls as they twist and sway.
And who'd want to rebuild this wasted wreck?
Who would pick up the stones from where they lay?
Who could find any hope, even just a speck,
among the ruins, clutter and decay?