Ode To A Wrecking Ball

Some people decry letting old places die

Cringing at the thought when bulldozers are brought

To knock down the walls of decrepit dance halls

With their voices raised and eyes wet and glazed

They bemoan this ‘great loss’ like it’s Jesus on the cross

They simply cannot see that all stories are History

Sentiment for old shelves is us trying to save ourselves

Trying not to be forgotten when our children plant new cotton

New buildings and new dreams replace those old, dry-rotted beams

These vast empty shells where dust and ghosts dwell

Do no good for the living and that’s their misgiving

Heart-felt, emotional pleas against hard financial realities

Stuck in once-upon-a-time, aging starlet past her prime

Once glorious and new, now forgotten like an old shoe

Better to remember May, and forget November

Turn-of-the-century wonder will soon be torn asunder

As its Art Deco charm falls without much alarm

Architecture is divine when the taxes are not mine

Buildings aren’t meant for the dead, but for those left in their stead

To use as long as they’re needed, ‘til their usefulness is exceeded

Then best that they be replaced than just left there to go to waste