A phone call
A meeting
A walk and a chat.
We are given a form to read and to sign
Permission there on the dotted line
Now waiting
For Someone
To take it away.
We are given a chance to look one more time
Hoping yet still for that precious find
Constricted
Conflicted
It’s now such a mess
The metal’s all rust and the ash is all mush
Ugliness contrasts with green so lush
But soon,
we’ll be clear,
A clean slate, like they say
“Time to move on”-
Well, there’s no other way,
No matter how we might wish that it was as before
Reality says it’s not there anymore.
Just a ghost, or echoes of times in our past
Which can find their way in a new home with heart.