Reservation for Children (World)

In ten years more,
Or probably 50 years more,
I wonder if the children would talk about the trees,
The forest and the beauty of it,
Like i used to,
Loving the nature and always thought of going back,
To the woods and find a bit of quietness,
Would they even bother what is thinning and what is empty,
If the sound of the river are deaf to their ear,
I have often wonder,
How much longer can i protect,
The trees, plants including the greens,
When they ought to add another profit,
Through the greed they come after,
Forgetting the old days,
No more mountain that will ever be high,
No more hills to be seen,
And all of that gone while i was growing up,
If that is never enough for human greed,
Then they can never come to their senses of the lost one,
Aye,
I have said that,
The roads that i once saw trees growing,
All empty as the barren field,
Waiting to be stabbed by the metals and building,
Thus i have asked again and again,
What do children see in the future,
The world that was beautiful when i was born,
Or the world that filled up dust and just plain greed.