The Old Memory.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

When I see through the window,
There are no birds around,
A few with the tinge of yellow,
Blue, green, white and black,
Where they have gone,
From this prosperous valley,
Once carefully surrounded by the trees,
Now the wounded hills and the sky scrapers,
Just outside my former abode,
The cold mist is replaced with rustic people,
The place has changed and gained the value,
All my favorite trees and birds are gone,
Though I observe through this window,
All day long, the melody from the jungle paradise,
Gone somewhere, not to the distant land,
But to be obsolete, in concreted forest,
Everything and everyone has become obsolete,
Can be used for a while, then to be discarded..