For a decade or more,
A wall has dominated the borealis view.
Not of stone,
But bricks and metal;
A landmark to a house of follies.
Home to two-score flock of pigeons,
Who wheel and roost,
Dance, breed and roost again.
A more than grand substitute for the
cliffs their wild cousins still reside on distant isles.
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Now in the morn of septembre,
I stare across the expanse where the
wall once lay:
Bricks broken down,
Steel pillars taken away.
Instead lies an expanse that crosses
road and houses,
And continues on into the sky:
More welcome,
More bright,
Than the monolith that stood before.
To the North,
North east and
North West I can now gaze;
Unhindered into the realm of firmament
and clouds.
And only have photographs of the
barrier that stood before.
Would I have the monolith back?
I will let thee guess...
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