The walls come down in clouds of stifling dust
That clog her throat with memories she's lost.
That broken glass was once a window pane
Where children traced "I love you" in the frost.
They tear away the rooms she knew so well,
The corridors she wandered aimlessly,
They rip the courtyard's cobblestones from place,
Leave empty space where history should be.
Uprooted trees, like fallen sentinels
Lie dying and defeated in the mud,
A quiet breeze sings "in memorium"
And picks up autumn leaves as red as blood.
They paint over the damage rapidly
With glossy coats of slick modernity,
Glass edifices rise in shining towers
And "progress" conquers her identity.
And in that moment all her past's erased
And adulthood looms large, unknown and vast,
Childhood pursuits, dust scattered on the wind
And seventeen's last months slip by too fast.