These fallen facades proudly carried names;

Companionship, Liberty, Shaking Hands,

Deserted and feared due to Safety’s blames,

Leaving ruins where a lonely door stands.

Masked by “Hand, face, space” on tatty A4

Silvered number herald the year to come

Time provides, as it always has before,

A hopeful mirage where before was none.

 

The threshold heralds no obvious change

Except a solitary Grecian jar,

Unmarred nor marked, familiar and strange

A gift for The Spent from fate’s repertoire;

In the prior prison of hate and greed,

Hope remains there waiting for those in need.