Anti-pastoral Ballad

Buried beneath a mine of greed,

wild birds fly through my mind;

in clear sky they shine, purely free

of cold shadows they’ll never find.

**

With golden seas, of days gone by,

now filtered blue to gray;

remember the past, where with a sigh,

I could watch sun-lit mermaids at play.

**

But now, through out dim day and dark night,

my skin burns, willfully unseen;

only scars will show the massive blight

to twisted eyes, of gilded green.

**

Tree lines shattered, species adrift,

due to time unheeded

to correct the course as seen unfit,

for materials unneeded.

**

Buried deep, I’m left alone

to mourn the sights you’ll never see.