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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1500940-Terrace-End
by Bruce.
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Entertainment · #1500940
End of the line for a terraced house.   Rhyme.
Terrace End.

I've been here a hundred years and survived two world wars.
I’ve felt the sun, the wind, the rain, the freezing and the thaws.
Pregnant mothers, babies born, children laughing, playing, crying.
I’ve seen hurt and I’ve seen pain, old age, sickness, people dying.
Christmas, weddings, celebrations, parties going on till late.
Private nights of loving passion, arguments, deceit and hate.
My friend next door had seen the same, but he’s now not around.
The men they came and stripped him out then crashed him to the ground.
The men will come again tomorrow then they’ll strip me bare.
The crash, the thud, the cloud of dust, then I will not be there.
© Copyright 2008 Bruce. (brucef at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1500940-Terrace-End