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Poetry: "Demolition" by Nina Lewis



Old warehouse as tall as the Church spire,

houses set like baby shoes around it's feet.

Fenced off, like some dangerous animal

this vast building of industry awaits demolition.


From a distance the outer walls hold

perfected glory

as sculpted as icing on a Wedding cake.


Today is the day.

A flock of birds pass the camera lens,

they sense it.


The implosion brings the right-hand side down

in exothermic sugar clouds, whiter than the aging building,

warehouse engulfed in smoke.


With a flash, as quick as a magician's hand

the building disappears.

Bonded Warehouse falls,

baby shoes obliterated from view, until the dust settles.
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