The City's Breath
The city breathed deep, in a rhythm well-known,
A symphony played on the arteries of stone.
Each dawn was a gasp, as the engines awoke,
A million exhausts in a synchronized stroke,
The morning commute, a collective deep draw,
As lives surged inward, obeying a law
Of commerce and purpose, the workday begun,
Under skies painted ochre by the rising sun.
Then came the exhale, as twilight descended,
The pace would slow down, the tension unbended.
A hush would descend on the concrete domain,
A soft, gentle sigh in the lessening lane.
The rumble subsided, the horns ceased their blare,
Leaving whispers of wind on the cool evening air.
This ebb and this flow, a predictable tide,
The very lifeblood where the city did ride.
But then, a new sound, an abrasive harsh cry,
Shattered the cadence beneath the vast sky.
The clang of the metal, the drills’ piercing whine,
A relentless assault on the city's design.
A constant aggression, a grating discord,
Where once there was rhythm, now only abhorred
The natural breathing, the ebb and the flow,
Leaving the city in a state of slow woe.
The vibrant hues faded from buildings so tall,
A film of grey dust seemed to cover it all.
The energy flagged, like a wilting bouquet,
The city felt heavy, and lost its bright way.
The people moved slower, their faces drawn tight,
Reflecting the strain in the pale, filtered light.
Each piercing vibration, a tightening band,
Around the city, held in a concrete hand.
Elara, who lived where the traffic did hum
Its comforting drone, felt the change overcome
The heart of her dwelling, the pulse of her street.
The joyful quick steps had become dragging feet.
She missed the soft sigh of the late-evening breeze,
Replaced by the tremor that offered no ease.
The city felt choked, its life force suppressed,
And a longing for quiet bloomed within her breast.
She wandered the squares, where once laughter took flight,
Now shadowed by hoardings, obscuring the light.
The parks, once green lungs, felt constricted and small,
Dwarfed by the towers that threatened to fall
With their weight of harsh noise and unyielding demand,
For more and more concrete across the tired land.
She knew in her heart, if the breath couldn't mend,
The city's own spirit would ultimately end.
An idea then sparked, a soft, hopeful green shoot,
To counter the harshness, to offer a root
For solace and quiet, a balm for the sound.
She gathered some seeds, in the rich fertile ground
Of forgotten corners, and patches of grey,
She knelt with her trowel, and began to hold sway
Against the intrusion, the relentless assault,
Planting small havens, with love as the vault.
She scattered the poppy seeds, scarlet and bold,
Where once only rubble and grey could be told.
She tucked in the jasmine, for fragrance to rise,
A gentle sweet whisper that touches the skies.
The lavender followed, its purple so deep,
Promising calm while the weary would sleep.
And trees, sapling slender, with roots reaching down,
Hoping to muffle the clamourous town.
Each planting a breath, a deliberate act,
To heal the harsh rhythm, to gently retract
The suffocating grip of the endless construction.
She envisioned green corridors, offering suction
To draw in fresh air, to create little sighs,
Reflected in birdsong that happily flies.
These emerald pockets, a soft counter-beat,
A promise of solace on every small street.
Slowly, the green spread, a delicate weave,
A tapestry woven for the city to believe
In respite and quiet, a return to its ease.
The colours seemed brighter, carried on the breeze.
A subtle new rhythm began to emerge,
A softer vibration, an encouraging surge
Of life pushing through, against the harsh sound,
As nature’s own breathing began to abound.
For the city's true breath wasn't solely the cars,
But the life that unfolded beneath the bright stars,
The laughter, the whispers, the birds in their flight,
The rustle of leaves in the fading sunlight.
And Elara knew, as the green spaces grew,
That the city could breathe, and feel vibrant and new,
If only its people remembered with care,
To nurture the quiet, and the fresh, fragrant air.
A symphony played on the arteries of stone.
Each dawn was a gasp, as the engines awoke,
A million exhausts in a synchronized stroke,
The morning commute, a collective deep draw,
As lives surged inward, obeying a law
Of commerce and purpose, the workday begun,
Under skies painted ochre by the rising sun.
Then came the exhale, as twilight descended,
The pace would slow down, the tension unbended.
A hush would descend on the concrete domain,
A soft, gentle sigh in the lessening lane.
The rumble subsided, the horns ceased their blare,
Leaving whispers of wind on the cool evening air.
This ebb and this flow, a predictable tide,
The very lifeblood where the city did ride.
But then, a new sound, an abrasive harsh cry,
Shattered the cadence beneath the vast sky.
The clang of the metal, the drills’ piercing whine,
A relentless assault on the city's design.
A constant aggression, a grating discord,
Where once there was rhythm, now only abhorred
The natural breathing, the ebb and the flow,
Leaving the city in a state of slow woe.
The vibrant hues faded from buildings so tall,
A film of grey dust seemed to cover it all.
The energy flagged, like a wilting bouquet,
The city felt heavy, and lost its bright way.
The people moved slower, their faces drawn tight,
Reflecting the strain in the pale, filtered light.
Each piercing vibration, a tightening band,
Around the city, held in a concrete hand.
Elara, who lived where the traffic did hum
Its comforting drone, felt the change overcome
The heart of her dwelling, the pulse of her street.
The joyful quick steps had become dragging feet.
She missed the soft sigh of the late-evening breeze,
Replaced by the tremor that offered no ease.
The city felt choked, its life force suppressed,
And a longing for quiet bloomed within her breast.
She wandered the squares, where once laughter took flight,
Now shadowed by hoardings, obscuring the light.
The parks, once green lungs, felt constricted and small,
Dwarfed by the towers that threatened to fall
With their weight of harsh noise and unyielding demand,
For more and more concrete across the tired land.
She knew in her heart, if the breath couldn't mend,
The city's own spirit would ultimately end.
An idea then sparked, a soft, hopeful green shoot,
To counter the harshness, to offer a root
For solace and quiet, a balm for the sound.
She gathered some seeds, in the rich fertile ground
Of forgotten corners, and patches of grey,
She knelt with her trowel, and began to hold sway
Against the intrusion, the relentless assault,
Planting small havens, with love as the vault.
She scattered the poppy seeds, scarlet and bold,
Where once only rubble and grey could be told.
She tucked in the jasmine, for fragrance to rise,
A gentle sweet whisper that touches the skies.
The lavender followed, its purple so deep,
Promising calm while the weary would sleep.
And trees, sapling slender, with roots reaching down,
Hoping to muffle the clamourous town.
Each planting a breath, a deliberate act,
To heal the harsh rhythm, to gently retract
The suffocating grip of the endless construction.
She envisioned green corridors, offering suction
To draw in fresh air, to create little sighs,
Reflected in birdsong that happily flies.
These emerald pockets, a soft counter-beat,
A promise of solace on every small street.
Slowly, the green spread, a delicate weave,
A tapestry woven for the city to believe
In respite and quiet, a return to its ease.
The colours seemed brighter, carried on the breeze.
A subtle new rhythm began to emerge,
A softer vibration, an encouraging surge
Of life pushing through, against the harsh sound,
As nature’s own breathing began to abound.
For the city's true breath wasn't solely the cars,
But the life that unfolded beneath the bright stars,
The laughter, the whispers, the birds in their flight,
The rustle of leaves in the fading sunlight.
And Elara knew, as the green spaces grew,
That the city could breathe, and feel vibrant and new,
If only its people remembered with care,
To nurture the quiet, and the fresh, fragrant air.
- Khushi Kaul
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