Old Buildings
Eyesore or treasure? With what shall we measure
The value of buildings we see every day?
Some buildings age gracefully, well pointed masonry
With legions of people to admire and to fix
While some are neglected, abandoned, dejected
A sad wounded call for a quick coup de grace
Roof gone the water pours, glass broken, missing doors
Awaiting the crumble to rubble and sticks
Time, water, and gravity, agents of entropy
Bedevil us all and the things we create
Seeking transcendence and signs of ascendance
Instead we find ruins and piles of old bricks
Sometimes outdated, old stories related
Of who we were once and the things we admired
Like Ozymandias , time levels all of us
And takes us away cross our own River Styx
So like us old buildings are born, grow, and die
Like us old buildings may fade
But those that remain tell their stories again
And remind us of currents that were once in the mix
But unlike us old buildings may continue and live
Unlike us they don’t have to die
Telling stories of craftsmanship, stories of skill
Stories of songs sung in brick.
                              John Haigis 8/28/14