Phoenix
Phoenix was a local shop,
As funky as could be,
And most times when I’d visit,
There’d be something there for me.
The owner and his partner
Loved to travel and explore
And from everywhere they went,
Their shopping sprees would stock the store.
From jewelry to sculpture,
Blankets, pottery and rugs,
Every item held your interest,
Not a place for yawns or shrugs.
Took a ride today to Phoenix
And the shop was just a shell,
Not one object there to look at,
Nothing left for them to sell.
One more loss I must acknowledge -
That’s the way things seem to go.
Soon there won’t be anything around
Of what I used to know.
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