The Sparrows don’t chirp anymore, the morn silence greets me as I wake,
A dream of chirruping sparrows rudely interrupted by a question strange,
“Where have the sparrows gone?” I glance at the horizon at skeletons
Of new high rises that greet the eye where once lush green fields met you.
Mischievous dust clouds race each other across the barren land of sand,
Where once a field of wheat and yellow mustard blossoms waved happily
In the morning breeze! The tinkling stream now no longer flows where the
Weary dipped sore feet as lusty fish sped down on errands of their own !
Alas, that the green paradise is now but a barren desert, where instead of
Trees and streams, dust clouds and skeletons greet you, as you gaze into
The future, a future where the sparrows don’t greet you in the mornings !
Green fields of wheat and mustard yellow flowers but a dream of lost past!
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