To Be a Whopper
When did things change?
Harder than rocks,
Layered in a thin shield of milk chocolate,
Once loved by all.
Children dress as shimmering translucent ghosts,
Hunched wart-faced witches and warlocks,
Or princesses in puffy gowns that made them resemble cupcakes,
Frolicked to me with smiling orange totes,
Yellow-beige whooper candies,
Filled their baskets to the brim.
Now I am ignored,
Whoppers by the dozen in a humble black dish,
Flicked away for petite Kisses,
Buried alive under savory Reese’s,
Unwanted.
When did things change?
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