The Vacant Lot

A building used to stand where now A vacant lot exists, Each scattered brick a remnant Of the past that still persists. Inhabitants were once ensconced Within the phantom walls, Who climbed the stairs each day and Trudged along in dim-lit halls. Aromas of assorted meals Would waft from twice-locked doors, Occasionally drifting Up and down to different floors. The blare of old-time TV shows Would mingle with the noise Of conversations or the thumps Of raucous girls and boys. But all is still and quiet now; The vacant lot’s been sapped Of all the lives that it once held, Their joys and worries scrapped. It bides its time, for very soon Construction will begin And walls will rise exactly where The former ones have been.