To Be a Whopper

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?