houses
little brick ones
will grow old
but never up when
staring
at the ground
there comes a time
when the bricks
must
bow
to constructions
who crawl towards skies
that only seem
a boundary
little did they know
memories of their birth
were never replaced
with new knowledge
of the here and now
honored though
once they were symbols
made of stone
after so many
of their allies
have been struck down
by the violence of war
once they were young too
now
they’re just old
observing
while the city’s evolves
and develops
and renews itself
there comes a time
when the houses
little brick ones
will fall into peace
their children
are scraping skies
before they tumble
down upon those
who paved the streets
who marked places
which say
‘here it’s best
to become
a grown up
growing old’
then they will know
evolution
is not about
the left cornerstone
upon which one builds
evolution
is about how much
free
space
one passes on
for the young grown ups
M.S.
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