Gone

My friend Maria said this was her favorite poem, so here it is.


Sky, as big as the universe,

Land like a sea of grass.

Yellow, brown, green grass,

The prarie alive with buffalo,

Built like refrigerators.

Settlers move across like trains.

Now the grass has vainshed,

Buffaloes like a shadow of the past.

Settlers gone like dodo birds,

The prarie is there no more.