I can but mourn for what I knew. <br />I never stood in domed <br />Or ancient forest. Never viewed <br />Nor untrod paths were roamed. <br /> <br />My beaches strewn with plastic <br />Broken bottle, rusted can <br />My leafy bowers littered <br />With the residue of man. <br /> <br />My city air polluted <br />With the vent of poison fumes. <br />The vestiges of that odorous stench <br />Turn our shadowed streets to tombs. <br /> <br />What birthright do we leave to them <br />Who follow in our tread. <br />Instead of healing cleaning. We <br />Add our debris instead.<br /><br />Beatrice Dahlen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/our-legacy/
