Cycle of Destruction

This street has lost meaning to me.

It is the place we used to go.

Here used to lie a great oak tree:

we danced around it in the snow

singing festive songs merrily.

In this basket we used to stow

many conkers upon my knee.

All forsaken now for housing rows.

Like all beauty, destined to fray.

Trees were crushed and memories shattered.

Now all the fair birds have flown away,

remember how they once chattered?

Remember how in our home made den we’d play?

If I was once again flattered

with such beauty, I’d surely say

with gratitude, how much those trees mattered.

This street has lost meaning to me.

It’s no longer the place I know.

I walk down the street in dismay,

oh how things change day by day!

Little love lost for this new low

for we’ve lost both the first and the latter

now even the earth and rubble lie shattered.