I can still see our work boots lying
Exactly where we left them
Gates with padlocks unsure of what to guard
Windows gazing out for our return
The front door stiff in its opened position
Yearning to be slammed shut
But neither of us go back
To tell them it's over
In time
The bricks will grow tired of waiting and crumble
The crane will droop its neck in sorrow
The shovels will rust
Do you think the flowers will grow here
When you and I are off
Building something new
With someone else