I grew up with this building,
I grew up in this building.
It was started the day I was born
And built as I grew;
Each floor another year,
Each brick another memory.
The building is quite tall now;
Nearly eighty stories;
I’m starting to see cracks in the walls,
And some bricks are falling from the top floor.
Every day more bricks disappear
Along with the memories that they represent.
The building is now rubble,
And I am now gone;
All that remains is
The memory of the structure
That once stood as my life.
I realize this poem is a little serious. If you want to see an explanation of the poem go to http://www.youtube.com/user/apb148 for the video.
Tags: 20, alzheimer's, brick, building, crumble, day, floor, of, poetry, the, year
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