The distant sight
Of a crane in the woods,
Where I once plucked mangoes
And the gardener running after me,
I would paint alfresco,
Of the lush dense forest trees,
And now I see,
A squirrel running on the land of her lost home
Euphonious sounds of the birds in bevy,
Still echo in mind,
I take a sudden 360 degree turn
The drilling machine drills further
I wander away, disconcerted
By this sudden sense,
Of having been cut…
The axe hacks my torrid emotions
Under my tutelage,
It grew tall more than I could see,
For them, a mere bagatelle,
Callous intentions, a leaf dead…
My precious tear died on my cheek,
Fingers crinkled,
And I ran to embrace,
The bark of my soul…
Men moved away,
As I clung to conserve,
And vociferous voices swirled,
As slogans reverberated in the air…
We all hugged,
A woman’s love to keep a forest…
And the joy of,
Traversing in deep woods…
The 4-Hour Workweek – Book 32 Review
5 years ago
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