There are cracks in the streets that meet potholes — ever widening,
Deepening — in the old town where Mayor Fiddlesticks plays the clown,
While alleyways drown in raw sewage.
There are breaks in the buildings that stand to bake in the sun —
Foundations corroding, eroding — while the old town council serves
Up cake by the stagnant lake.
There are shattered windows in the old town schools, where classrooms
Are filled with pools of drool from open-mouthed, sleeping students
While teachers dare not wake to take the time to reach into the minds
Of pupils to actually teach each precious soul.
There are stained walls along the temple halls in the old town, where
Once its edifice was the crown treasure and pleasure of the people,
Who looked toward its steeple, its once-glorious spire enough to inspire
With angelic choir singing through open gates bringing hope and joy,
But the only sound there now heard is the infrequent, loud pounding
On now the now-closed doors.
Ah! But there is a new town, where ne’er is seen the frown, with gilded
Gates and freshly laid streets paid for out of the royal coffer to offer
To people the best, who invest their lives in this hive of happiness;
Where residents work and play during the day, enjoying colorful parks,
In which the larks sing their song, bringing joy to every girl and boy;
Where new temples dot the horizon, where wizened sages turn the pages
Of bright hope in numinous light and tell their stories of glories yet
To come … at least say some of this this new town and sparkling crown
Of a king of mysterious renown.
Note: Inspired by New Town: A Fable … Unless You Believe by Harry Blamires
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