03 December, 2012


As many times as we've
Been inside this building,
I doubt anyone could
Identify it by this picture.
Only a single color
Even hints at the place
That this once was,
So familiar to me in
My younger years.
This was my playground.
Would you let your child
Play here now, in these ruins?
It has fallen into such
Disrepair, gone to waste,
So that when I visited,
It tugged at my heart
To see what it has become.
See how it has been destroyed?
See, how time and carelessness
Have torn it apart, though
It still stands to hold
My memories in place.
I know these buildings
So well, I could draw
A map to guide you.
Could you? Do you know
What this is? Or, rather,
What it used to be?
Look here, how a new
Generation has left its
Mark, not caring what
This site might have
Represented in the past.
I remember so much here,
So many friends and people,
Teachers and mentors.
Most of all I recall
My mom here,
In this room where she
Spent her days, even
In the summer, for
So little recognition,
For meager earnings
To support her family.
What has happened here?
The walls are literally
Just torn to pieces,
The entire locale
Considered insignificant.
But it still holds significance!
It still stands, stares
At the outside world in defiance,
Declaring, "I am still here!"
And although it has been
Closed off, locked up tight
Against intruders of all kinds,
The outside is still free
For me to roam at leisure,
So that I can be reminded
Of all the minds that walked
Through here, that learned
And grew here, of all the
People that discovered
New things as they trudged,
Often unhappily, through
These now dilapidated
Hallways. And to what gain?
It is now that I ask
Of all my friends:
Do you remember this?
Are your memories fond,
Or sentimental at all?
Do you miss it, or
Are you glad to be gone?
Do you drive right past
And not even realize?
Does it phase you in the
Least, that it lies abandoned,
Sometimes the grass mowed
But otherwise neglected?
Years ago, it was cared
For and tended lovingly.
And now? Now it seems,
Some view it as a blight
On this town. But I see
It for what it is,
A small piece of history
That I could be a part of.
They knew they were
Building something for
The future, but do we?
Is it still Our Place,
Like it was when we
Were children?
When the world was new
And dramatic, when
Everything was life or death-
A simpler time? Perhaps.
I remember the rails that
Were here, when we sat
On the corners and talked
About anything at all,
Just to pass our few minutes
Of time before another
Reality check.
So much has been altered,
Demolished even,
And yet here it remains.
Here, also, is a reminder
That at one time it wasn't
So forlorn and forgotten.
It was a haven to some.
It was a whole world in itself.
It travels through time,
In its own way.
And even though it is cast aside,
So discarded that it doesn't
Even warrant a flagged pole,
I haven't forgotten,
Not in the least.
Little things here and there
Linger on to tell us
Of the activity that used
To exist here. It was
Never ceasing! These buildings
Never rested, they were alive
All year long. They lived
And breathed.
We made music here!
This is where we learned it!
And so many other things,
Even those that weren't
Taught. Even the sign
Still guards over
This ground, not yet
Erased, As a monument
To its repressed life.
Do you remember now?
Or did you ever forget?