My environs, filled with sirens,
Rarely
seems serene.
Add
some snow plows to the mix
And
picture what I mean.
Yes,
it’s gritty in the city
But,
in years gone by,
There
was vibrancy as well,
A
permanent supply.
Now
the flavor I’d once savor
Packed
its bags and left,
While
we who stayed just hear the noise
And
shake our heads, bereft.
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