Michael Edwards

LAST STREET STANDING

 

 

LAST STREET STANDING

 

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.

 

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