The field behind our home
Was a pond in my childhood
It used to serve as the best mirror,
To the beautiful birds in our neighbourhood.
The ducks used to fight for a place
And the fishes- they used to whisper to one another
How to escape the kingfisher’s rage
Often failing and surrendering to their dear enemy.
Then the fall finally arrived
The trees shed their leaves
The fishes were deprived
Of the essential sunlight, let alone the air.
The ducks put their wings into action
To fly to the adjacent lake
The fishes wanted to imitate them
However, they couldn’t. The pond became opaque.
Now I see and stare at the field
And think, green is not always green
The green leaves of the trees sealed
The fish’s future, turning it black.