underground street art : a redefinition
across the street, the older buildings looked on in anticipation
"Who of us is next to be torn from the land?"
"Not I", said Red, as he steadied his stand
"The three storeyed fella, he's oldest and weak,
and his withered plumbing is starting to leak"
"It can't be" grumped Stumpy, soft and unsure.
"I'm still plenty solid, every wall, every floor"
"Skinny however, is mostly vacant,
and the rust and splinters are far too blatant"
Skinny stayed silent with his friends by his side
and looked back till the bricks of his long wild ride.
Echoes once more, rung out from the past
of screams and of songs that were too long to last.
Reflections in the fallen rain, of the good times gone by
only for the mirrors to be pulled back to the sky.
And so the old buildings stood there, clueless yet hoping
and watched for tomorrow with windows wide open