They grew up in caravans
The endless black tarmac of the roads
Was their backyard
Grandma and her sisters
Passed the time with cards
‘Til her twelfth birthday
They grew up on farms
Dad
Would spend the day playing
With the chickens
It was the funniest thing around
‘Til he turned fifteen
They grew up in houses
Watching television one night a week
They’ ride their bikes around the block
And mum would show off to all her friends
‘Til age seventeen
We grow up in apartments
Texting friends on our phones
Listening to music
While we wait for our laptops to charge
I’m driven to the cinema
10 minutes down the road
To catch the latest movie
In 3D
They’ll grown up in a mansion
There’ll be no cars
Unless you’re a billionaire
There’ll be no river
My child can swim in on the weekend
And they’ll never scuba-dive
At the Great Barrier Reef
Or see a polar bear
The generations before them took that
We used too much
And were careless
Now they’ll have nothing left
And they will pass their time with cards
They’ll stand on square one
But there will be no resources
To bridge the gap
To square two
When my granddaughter grows up
They will have no oil
No coal
None, because we burnt it all
How did none of us see
That this is how
They will all grow up
YOU ARE READING
Too Late: Vol. #2
PuisiThis is a collection of poems I've written and decided to publish. It's the second volume in the series, though it doesn't matter if you've read volume one or not. I'm not sure yet how many volumes I'll make. But this one, like the last, will have 2...
