Broken tiles
Have slipped
Upon the old roof
That bears the sun
The bitter wind
Snow and rain
Winters breath
Jagged hail.
Broken windows
Stripped of lead
Once shined
Like childrens eyes
The battered path
The building
That struggles
To survive.
Once stood high
Taught so many
Only photographs
Are left
Its sports fields
Overgrown and tired
Its success
In memory kept.
The old school
That they will
Tear down
Abandoned
Growing old
Deep in memory
Please be proud
You served this town.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: March 9th, 2025 08:01
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 27
- Users favorite of this poem: MinaH
Offline)
Comments1
A great picture painted here and a metaphor for each person as they age as well. Very nice
very kind, thanking you
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