Jack’s fancy was a bungalow,

Nestled quietly near the woods;

A garden and a patio,

A place to store his worldly goods.

 

A haven close to nature’s heart,

Where he could ponder and could rest;

A spot for music and for art,

And all the things he liked the best.

 

But pleasure soon began to wane,

As viral traffic pounded past,

And noise from each approaching plane

Would make his earplugs feel outclassed.

 

His taste for nature’s gifts was spoiled

By chemicals and pesticides;

Attempts to visit friends were foiled

By unreliable train rides,

 

While factory and power source,

Unyielding in their quest for wealth,

Deposit junk in every course,

Impacting squarely on his health.

 

So Jack’s sweet dream of paradise

Had merely flattered to deceive.

Our brave new world exacts a price;

We pay, but soon may not believe.