of a factory once teeming
sturdy and strong,
embodiments of the bricks they crafted,
now scattered, shattered, broken.
A smoke stack stands erect,
the omniscient foreman of ghosts—
their fire snuffed out long ago
like the abandoned kiln,
gaping mouth full of ash and debris.
Among the rubble,
rusted steel, a partial skeleton
of the fractured edifice
whose layers couldn’t hold—
not against the elements
years that have passed,
waging wars and wielding weapons.
The history still whispers,
echoing through the haunted woods
that frame the building’s remains.
And the strength of the bricks
lost to the wail of the wind
that whirls through the pines
and moans among the fallen structure.