Sirens are off in the distance, along with the constant roar of trucks and buses
Starting and stopping
Crunching gravel nearby
A tree with no branches or leaves rests on display in the center
Its wood is preserved but lifeless
Its trunk is massive, almost as if two merged together
It is unlikely any others will match its depth or maturation

It is one of those sweltering hot summer days
Finally a breeze, a maple leaf is sent across the grey hexagon tiles
Fiery red, it still has some green left in it
Surely the change was premature
But there were others, orange, yellow – brown
The change was a reminder of how much time has passed
A reminder of the summer’s end and our beginning

Vampire weekend, red wine, red Toms, and auburn lipstick

Meanwhile, the tower above the trees is a marvel of architecture
The front of the building is transparent
The east and west sides are glass but dark violet, nearly impenetrable to sunlight
Its sharp-rigid edges and thin frame jut towards the sky
But the scaffolding has been there for six years or as long as I can remember
Most of the building is vacant, with hardly any tenants above the lower floors
Construction seems permanent

You on the other hand sit confidently
Your cement infrastructure rises above the rest of the city, comfortably alone
Put together here in only two years, you are sure of the future
Your steel beams reflect direct sunlight
Because your burgundy windows see it all, you know it all
You are colorful when you want to be, commanding attention
But you are a half mile away, distant
A reminder of where you thought we were

Red dress, red horns, brake lights are the last I see

The number 28 hangs over the door in forest green
Its elevators lead up eight floors to a glass enclosed lobby
Scarlet accents and walls
To the left is a door, where you were
Changing for the fall
By Marcell L. Hilliard