By Kerry Fair
Monument to mammon,
the silent edifice
looms over the empty street.
Remnants of power
linger in the thickness,
emptiness safe-guarded
by the peeling door.
Gone, the unhurried footsteps,
the greetings, the meetings
the savings plans … the dreams.
Cracked and faded,
the illusion of caring
mocked by encroaching vines.
The bank, long abandoned,
descends comfortably into time,
having sealed the fate
of another country town.
