Two Sides of Home

Soft pink borders setting sun
Lush green from the woody bank
Drifts through obsidian stream
Alongside scraps of plastic.

Trees stand proudly in courtyard
Lorikeets play like children
With a flap fly off to streets
Where exhausts belch out gasses.

Beautiful on the surface
But dirt has tattooed its skin
A sadness inside me stirs
Watching wrappers tumble by.