Wednesday 22 February 2012

A poem

I know it’s not realistic,
but sometimes I like to think
that of all the waste we toss
in bins and wash into the drink
some seeds among the rubbish
will wash up on the shore
or find their ways to sun and rain
and somehow sprout and grow;
and then instead of piles of junk
and islands of debris
there’ll be fields of fruit and flowers
where our waste once used to be.