Progress

I remember a meadow – it’s now litter and tins –
Oh what has become of my beautiful land?
A polluting eight-laner – punctuated with dustbins –
where lovers on Sundays once strolled hand in hand.
Someone sits in a doorway – or right on the curb!
deshevelled, distraught and ever-so thin.
What has happened that this doesn’t even disturb?
How to explain this? Who knows where to begin!
    We witness such horror without even blinking!
    Is it me or –  truly – is empathy shrinking?

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