A Different Kind of Beauty

The last thing I remember,
Is the smell of freshly fallen Jacaranda,
That sweet scent surrounding my sinuses,
Each flower delicately touching my skin as it fell,
The wind whispering in my ear “I have a story to tell,”
Smiles from the sun cast down in rays, creating shadows,
Restless rabbits running for shelter in their furrows,
Endless possibilities, joy that knew no bounds,
Nature uninterrupted, pure smells, pure sounds.
Then I blinked,
It is all I did; I closed my eyes and opened them,
Just in time to jump out of the way of a speeding truck,
Paper bags replace the flowers on the ground,
Used condoms, discarded wrappers where they were once found,
Buildings tower, look down upon me, filled with pity,
The wind rushes past my ear giddy with felicity,
The sun smiles harder beating on brows,
Businessmen and briefcases look up with frowns,
Everything is rushing now; everyone has a sense of duty,
Some say it’s ugly, I call it a different kind of beauty.

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