The White City
Imagining The Columbian Exposition of 1893

There never was a time
When the White City didn't live.
It floated,
Hazy and magical
In the minds of dreamers.

And then one day it became a reality.
The crowds walked through it;
Spat on its grounds;
Left their mark on it.
But still it floated,
Hazy and magical.
The sounds of the crowds
Never penetrated those dreams.

And the day came
When the crowds stopped.
Litter blew caressingly
Down the malls and promenades;
Having a last look.
The wrecking vandals came
And reduced the reality
To splinters.

But the White City still floats,
Hazy and magical
In the minds of dreamers.


© 1983 Michael Yanega


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