Walking down that worn out street,
‘Twas a burning summer afternoon.
So crowded the lane, filled with joy and pain,
Faces I’ll never see again.
There in the distance, a giant old tree,
Her branches fighting the blistering heat.
Lonely as she could be, stood there patiently,
Although that battered street was her home,
It was far from the world she had previously known.
I could tell she once knew joy, when her own kind used to thrive.
Then over the years we came along,
With our stolen souls and conscience gone,
We took away her family, doomed her to a life of misery.
Yet tall she stands in her duty, not once does she fail
To shade the very souls that made, this concrete lifeless jail.
Poem by Priya D’Silva
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