As I wonder the pastoral fields
I picture my Utopia.
One ruled by a selected elite everything
Is safe and sound.
Children laugh and gather cultured flowers
Utopia. Foreign wall keeps
Brute vagabonds with wild dogs
At bay.
The wealth is shared among people
Man, woman, and child.
Houses replicated in cohesive cookie cutters.
Old man on Bottle.
Nurtures peonies and sprigs of lavender
Law forbids such kindness.
I admire Old man, showing empathy.
Isn’t a Perfect Utopia?
It’s mine; it’s where I grew up.
A Utopia.
Of resilient faces forced to be happy.
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