With its eye gazing around
A vulture whirred in whirls…and
Passing through the pangs of death,
The lush green town reduced to stony rubbish.
Likewise soil lost its touch with sowing,
Fertility gave way to sterility…
Practicality gleamed in mother’s eye,
When the vultures cast its eye on the town.
Trees will vanish giving their places to RCC
And, begging water, our lips will get dry.
A builder arrived here
And Eh!
Our cotton-soft hearts turned stone hard.
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