He gazes sadly
At the housing complex, newly constructed,
So rudely intruding upon the peace of the forest,
As a passing car leaves behind the stench

of progress.
He looks around,
Remembering his childhood home, reminiscing
The days before tarmac and suburban sprawl,
When life flowed through like a bubbling creek.
Fond memories return
Of a summer shower, of songs of birds in love.
His face, scarred by long-forgotten wars, smiles,
For the first time in what seems like centuries.
I stare silently
At the ancient oak tree, seeing its loneliness
Feeling its pain and sorrow. I sit and wonder
What this old man of the forest must be thinking.