12 March 2012
What will we leave them
Our young, as they grow?
Where will there be
For them to go?
What about forests
Or meadows and trees
What about insects
Butterflies and bees?
Will they have lakes?
Or rivers and streams
Will these just be memories?
Things of their dreams
Will birds still be here?
In crystal blue skies
Or fish swim in water
Snapping at flies
What will there be
For them to admire?
Polluted waters
Thick like mire?
Concreted wastelands
Burned black hills
No flowers or green grass
The thought gives me chills
Don’t let this happen
Protect mother earth
Leave it for our children
This land of our birth
Cut down pollution
Not forest and trees
Cut out the chemicals
Think of our children
As this land you rape
Leave the green belts
As a means for escape
A very old native
Was once heard to say
We don’t inherit from ancestors
This place where we play
He said everything
We see every morn
We only borrow
From those still to be born
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