The city

was cleaner than any I’d ever seen.

From afar

it’s shape unique to any I’d ever been,

With no tall spires or dark looming streets,

Everything was bright,

Colors rolling into one another like

The blending of paint by a patient hand.

Each aspect was balanced,

Smooth and and purposeful,

With enough light to feel alive at night,

But consequently see the stars.

The roads were unbusy,

so they were made quite small,

And the greenery was plentiful,

Flowers growing up the walls.

No birds crashed into windows,

No deer were overrun.

The bees had their own habitat,

So your home was never one.

And travel was made easy,

A walkable city, as it’s called,

Where everything is designed to be

Accessible for all.

And so this was the city

I stumbled upon one day,

As I breathed in its fresh air,

wonder overtaken by dismay

Because that where I had come from

was lacking in countless ways;

Where people begged on doorsteps

because they had no place to stay,

Where trash camped on sidewalks,

Cuz no one took it away,

And stars were a privaledge,

Polluted by nightly fray.

So the environment I saw here was

Was a mockery to my gaze,

As my home wouldn’t improve in centuries,

Much less by my dying days.