I’d hate to think a child of mine,
would look across a plastic sea,
watch the bottles sailing past,
and wonder how it used to be.
would he gaze upon this hopeless place,
and cry out in frustration,
would he sit and marvel at the waste,
made by my own generation.
would he play fetch in smog-filled streets,
and run on kerosene,
broken glass about his feet,
in his world of polythene.
id hate to think a child of mine,
would look across the plastic waves,
watch the steady latex tide,
and wonder what we could have saved.