Wandering though a barren land,
I came upon an empty place,
a house which had no roof, no door, no windows,
the wind raising leaves rushing around the lace
all tatty suspended from the gaping holes where once
a careful owner had chosen pretty coverings,
to shade the rooms from the heat of the sun.
Moving on along the road,
I saw a river in which the water
had turned a tepid, turgid green,
no longer able to flow gently,
but just slowly sliding 'tween it's banks,
no life containing, nor suitable for drinking by
any creature which valued it's life.
Further on I spied a city,
whose walls were crumbling,
covered in vines where anything was standing,
it's buildings neglected and ignored,
roads cratered, fences fallen,
not a person tending a care.
So I travelled on.