MIRAGE

The Eucalyptus tree sways and swings,

the wrinkled arms thin by heat and dust,

the little river where water once flowed with joyous ripple,

now struggles with little muddy streams.

The skies of azure blue no longer fill the horizon,

and in the night the stars are hard to see.

The rickshaw puller struggles in the heat,

the lonely bus passenger looks for shade in vain.

The Small child carrying a burden twice his size,

I drift back to the eucalyptus tree,

The world outside my window Isn't.....free....