After the Change
by Marcie Lynn Tentchoff
Before the Change
we used to walk
along the seawall,
counting cars,
and laughing at
the reckless, dizzy
flashing of the
garish neon lights.
We'd grab a corndog
from a roadside stand,
and slurp our colas
while we leaned against
grafitti-covered walls,
and cursed all humans
for their selfish,
wasteful ways.
But then things Changed,
and all the cars
and smog are gone.
Green forests grow,
and ocean tides
lap thirstily,
unfettered by
the shattered walls.
We perch atop the
verdant trees,
and toss the wind
between our wings,
sipping draughts
of faery dew,
and wondering where
the magic went.