Heather Jephcott draws and writes

Traces Of The Past

Traces of the past become lost
as the world becomes
one sophisticated mess.

Trying to find the past's beautiful footprints
when the days were lighter, kinder, slower,
where one could sit watching
butterflies dancing around noon.

The evidence for the past
is not near complex developments
covering every inch of old green,
colours turned into grey.

There is not a hint of this past
in the cultivated inelegant speed,
the intricately set traps,
the bumps along the way,
places to fall splat, flat.

Traces of the past are dissolving
as the city spreads becoming
an ever widening sophisticated mess.