I sit and stare at a decreased horizon
Mocked by improvement,
Devoured by development.
I sit and stare at the grass, once so green
Now yellow, as the light from dusk
mixes with light from the street lamps,
The cold sentinels, lining the streets.
I sit on an island of life,
designed for aesthetics,
I stare at the advancing
Stone and tar
Hungry for more.
A last refuge for life,
In the cities of the dead.