Old man, you nestle snugly
in fresh new brick
Sharp edges, clean mortar, piled high
They have seen nothing.
A few short months ago,
Were no more than buried clay
Yet now protect retired old men and women.
Old man, what hidden secrets you carry.
Long lost torrid love affairs.
Broken hearts, friendships
Moments of high drama, monumental struggles
Children,
now themselves grown up,
with children of their own.
How much of your life
have you shared with them?
How much of you will survive?
When you are gone
And these bricks. What will they see?
How long after you will they last?
What they have seen, they cannot recount.
But you can. Don’t take you secrets to the
grave. Share them. Enrich our lives with
the richness of yours.
You see, your destiny is not on the scrap heap
But in the vast library of man’s history.
Do not give up. You have a job to do.