Hope of Deliverance

Alps, beckoning to the heavens, melting down,
New snow mounds on Washington grounds.
Moist deserts now in the Middle East,
Mona Lisa’s smile shrivelled in Paris’ heat.

‘Third planet getting warmer’ read a report,
What with hot heads and cold shoulders, I retort
“I am moving to Jupiter,” lamented the Lord,
“Exploding atoms clouding my blue abode”.

The sky is vacant, our shameless might.
Orphaned by choice, our pitiable plight.
Yet, the needles of time are a bit apart…
Brothers in Maldives need not depart.