It’s Almost Real

Poem about synthetic things

We walk through a garden
Made of plastic.
The synthetic scent of flowers
Fills the air.
A mouthful of this river water
Leaves us thirsty.

It’s almost real.

We abound in friends but
Cry here alone.
Using these ‘feeds’ to
Feed our souls.
Never do they fail to
Leave us hungry.

It’s almost real.

We long for a new garden
Filled with life.
The gentle sting of wildflowers
Intoxicating our noses.
Bread and wine that
Satisfies our souls.

It’s real.

The creation is groaning
Longing for rebirth.
The children are aching
Held by promises.
The King is coming to
Save his bride.

It’s real.