Meadow Grass grows where a building used to stand, the
rubble just visible now that summer has surrendered to fall, the walls of it
like the remains of a broken tooth with stairs going down to its roots, rain
leaving puddles in the deepest places where a duck lives looking for food that
just isn't there, the meadow that stood here before the building did reclaiming
it's empire, one slow inch at a time, and by spring or more likely summer, the
wall will be gone from sight, clinging to the Earth just to survive, and I
wonder when will the bulldozers come and when will they reclaim it all,
building new walls and taking all claim of what came before, soon, I think,
maybe by autumn
No comments:
Post a Comment