Days in Distant Past

A short tale of what once was called 'nature'.

It was days in distant past, that I observed something in the skies.
Small, agile and countless once.
For now they go, lost beyond the line.
The line existing at the end of the sea.

It was days in distant past, that something grazed past me in the rooms at night.
Fragile and soft, yet sharp in bite.
Now it has gone, like the disasters they once towed.
The sewers they once flocked to, now wiped of their rule.

It was days in distant past, that something blocked the skies.
Sturdy yet flexible, it blocked the Sun's might.
Now they are but lies, not truly living beings.
And soon in time, grey buildings took place.

Present days now, here I now stand, and remember the past.
Standing under flocks of birds.
Shooing away rats.
Sitting under a tree.

Yet now I gaze.
Gazing at what once was.
50 years ago.
And 50 years time.