Today I long for that babbling stream's embrace, Where azure waters dance on their eloquent chase... Oh, when will they realize the loss they've inflicted, our timbered rain tree so rare?
Alas, too tardy—hog's root ripped it away, No one dared to replant, let it sway... They traded its beauty for a sinister fee, Ignorant Johnny, so heartless and free.
In peril I stand, my life's threads now entwined, Penning these words to remind and remind... Of the agony my mother bore, Under Johnny's palm, itching, sore.
The sun and moon waltz on eternally, Yet my little creatures—fading, inevitably... As time soars by, I may become a nomad, Masked and masked, in a world gone mad.
Mercy obscured by the mundane, Toxic fumes surround, like a relentless bane, Just as in King's tale, "The Running Man," In a world spun by an indifferent plan.
Ah, my children, had you lived in my days, When we sought refuge in nature's ballet of rays, Hide and seek amidst the urban grove, Our playground of wonders, where we'd rove.
But now I watch you, confined, withdrawn, Playing alone, indoors, from dusk until dawn, No sweat to strengthen, just eyes fixed to screen, Plaque-building moments, where nature's unseen.
A whisper in my heart, I must confess, What do I miss, in this digital mess? Johnny, my dear, what's yet to unfold, As my final drop of sweat, the future's truth, I'm told.
For you won't grasp your mother's despair, Till fate strikes you down, beyond repair, A pain deeper than death's chilling shade, A lesson too late, in greed's parade
