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.