The charcoal colored sky becomes a rainbow.
Golden sun rises and colors dance; dawn is here.
Higher than usual, various birds fly,
For the foul pollution smell is strong.
Far away in a patch of dirt,
The world’s only chance of hope grows.
Out of the ground it sprouts, then blooms,
The soft, red petals of the rose, shine.
The green grasshopper comes forth,
As small: fragile and agile as ever.
Slowly but surely bees begin buzzing,
Slowly, life begins to blossom.
As the sun reaches a higher place,
We begin to see clean, clear space.
Green trees come into sight,
Bats and rats say “good bye night”.
The sun has reached its rightful place,
Set high up in outer space.
Life begins; grass is green and lush,
Wasteland no more, With the Rose, all is flush.