POEM: ‘Dead Building Memories’

Whilst the world spills by, seemingly oblivious
They’re tearing down Debenhams.
Up in the clouds a workman sits
Chewing on a Mars Bar and perusing a paper
Like he’s just sat down in the park.
Once it was a flagship store
Seen from outside of town
Defiantly standing tall
The centre of the Centre.
Crippled by concrete cancer
It’s torn apart brick by brick
Each slab a teardrop.
My greatest memory:
Thursday tea in the café.
My mother chatted away
Seeing to my sister
As I wondered how it would feel to hurl myself through the great glass windows,
Flying like Superman or hurtling lifelessly to the ground.
I wonder if the workman reminisces like me,
Or just checks his watch count down to five?

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