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Random Thoughts

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Oh, Merry Go Round of life,

Treadmill of my dreams,

Concrete jungle,

Polluted Streams.

 

High-rise buildings blot out the sun,

Smog-filled air,

Slum sections teeming decay

And suppressed life, despair.

 

A question, urgently stirring

About wings spread and whirring.

Freedom to move in uncluttered space —

Tiny forms darting and blurring.

 

Will the swallows care to come back to Capistrano?

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