Our Withering, Forgotten World

Fresh emerald blades replace the flaxen strands of old

Winding roads and great white mansions becoming the new 'beautiful'

All we remember is the modern now,

Slowly, we forget nature:

Forgotten is the warbling song of magpies,

Vanished are the small spots of quolls,

The vibrant plumage of sweet finches and parrots are not even considered and 

Even the impossibly soft and fluffy grey fur of koalas disappears from our minds

in their place are phones, work, life

Technology and a technicolour world of fake realities, idealistic acts, are what we remember.

There is no time for the scurrying of bilbies,

no thought for the flapping broad wings of albatrosses

and neither for the splash of wise, calm turtles.

For we are busy - not remembering - and most of all:

We forget our beauties.

And our world withers under the careless touch of our distracted hands.