The cityscape cowers beside the desk
Concrete kingdoms hide glass and brick
The adjacent high-rise hides half the skyline
A hotel sinks in anonymous uniformity.
Twelve lights disturb the chalky colour scheme
Before comfortable sepia returns to greyscale
Fatigued blue lights turn to gold and brown;
Ash to brick, fog to smoke, cold... to warm.
Wreckers creep forward as the crowds shriek,
The brutalists weep the loss of a legacy
As all around marvel at what sits behind
Nostalgia blinds us with the tearing of bandages.
The camera pans right, the dust curtain moves east
The show goes on, the crowd stand amazed
Fallen protagonists cannot hide past misdemeanors
The hero's were in the prelude, not the denouement.
Cranes move in, mile high ladders move beams.
Rebuilding the city to obscure its history
The scars themselves in their mid seventies
The tragedies which bore the bones of fragility.
When bombs rain and recession follows
The buildings we raise are only temporary
Let us thank those who battled their right to exist
Their former glory is now something missed.
People will grow attached to what they know,
No matter how ugly it may appear to be.