Canals
flow silent
Remembering those dogged days
When deserted
with sediments brown
and red,
crude layers of aridity,
eyeing that green eyed monster jealousy
brooding also
in the popping up
layers of green
plants for the
soil
was barren ere
while ago.
Away
into the town,
the tongues
Some are dishonest,
but the chirping
Is always
honest, for it is
The Melody
of God’s Make.
Undiluted ,unspoilt by any
Corruptions and
corrugations .
Birds
speak their own
languages.
Yet, man and
woman under the
Blue sky, employ a
different, dishonest
medium. But oh! Here,to live in a land,
To become a butt of
comic ridicule
And vituperation, a
pain and eyesore.
Canals
flow silent and serene.
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