In terraced ranks
of brick and slate
they stand in rows
and wait their fate.

The street lies in
abandoned zones
deserted now
the cobbled stones.

And all that’s seen
on darkest nights
the distant red
of rear tail lights.

By day exposed
as light breaks through
a barren land
a desolate view.

An empty scape
where bleak wind blows
where buddleia
and nettle grows.

Where rotting wood
and old tin sheets
and bricks and rubble
lie in heaps.

In terraced ranks
of brick and slate
they stand in rows
and wait their fate.