Smoke is coughed from a factory smokestack
In dense grey puffs, from an upright cigar.
As the fumes exit their tubular track,
They dim the sky with particles of char,
And sully pallid white with taints of black
Pure snow defiled by a sooty scar.
Exhaust wheezes from a car chugging past,
Apparent on a freezing winter day.
Little by little, the smog has amassed,
Suspending in the air ashes of grey
Ending the reign of the skies forgotten
Obstructing the path of every sunray
The pristine snow plains, formerly unstained,
Hibernating bears, evergreens gleaming,
Have been soiled by industry unrestrained.
To be one with nature is so freeing,
Yet unblemished snow has scarcely remained,
Only truly experienced dreaming.