A place to keep other’s belongings…my childhood home…
The place where my Dad and I once happily roamed.
Four levels, a sundeck, and a courtyard that used to be…
Reduced to nothing more than a Memphis memory.
The elevator we used to ride….it certainly had its quirks.
It used to quake and hum…now it no longer works.
Climbed steps up to the old apartment…found no reason, no rhyme.
What once was a door and window, now replaced by metal blinds.
Due to “unsafe conditions”, I could not climb the old deck.
What about historic preservation? Why’s it all a wreck?
On the deck, I used to gawk down at the swimming pool.
I imagined taking a swan dive, imagining it so very cool!
The water below, now a mound of dirt, barren as cold hearts…
Those who relocated tenants, the spirit of those that still departs.
As a child, music filled the courtyard while others lounged, tanned, or swam.
Those who see the current scene remember it as it once was, and say: “Damn!”
People used to live here, where junk lies in lifeless, lonely compartments.
Neighbors we knew and loved lived in what used to be homey apartments.
All replaced by boxes, books, trinkets, furniture, and things no one can sell…
The storage facility, unable to evict the memories, may have sold their soul to hell.