Damn this cement and concrete

Do you know what it's like

to be woken by birdsong and golden sun?

I miss walking down

paths of a forest I was deliriously

in love with. Mapping the soil under

my sandals and the sun on my hair,

tracing the veins of red leaves on my 

downy arms and telling myself 

this is how life ought to be lived.

I'm so far from my forest.

From my birdsong and shaded paths,

folk songs and moonlit night walks. 

I never want to forget

what true joy feels like.

As though all of life wants to rejoice,

all at once, in my belly. My smile goes

beyond me, and I can't hold it in any more.

The sun is setting against horizon of Gulmohurs

and orange petals are falling at my feet

and I just walked

to the mossy well and waved 

to the turtles,

and climbed a tree and sang to the sky,

wove a blanket of golden sun and slept on a roof;

I never want to forget the feeling of rock

under bare feet and rain against bare face,

the sound of wind thundering through trees

and tousling back hair, I never want to forget.

Damn this cement and concrete,

The artificial flower beds and manicured lawns.

Damn the glass windows and clean white walls.

Damn me if I ever get used to this life.