The Once Window Poem by David Archer

The once window stares back,
a solemn reminder,
a plastered gap
of unmatched brick on brick;
pockets of rusting red
bleeding its age
through skin thin,
unfinished, untended render.

To the unquiet wind
despite its stone coloured stoicism
another year of mortar, paint and pattern fails;
complacent in its own dereliction
exposed by the elements it yields
under the weight of the unpainted,
unreached chimney stack
framed by a triangle of blue sky
that loses colour hour by day
where once I saw the strength of the wall
now I empathise with its decay.