Quarry Poem by Prabhakar Subramaniam

From across the shrinking lake
Which gives the street its name
The hill sculpted by the elements
Into a sitting elephant looks at him
With a silent query - -
Wants to know
If he has come back for good
Or to say goodbye yet again
Now that he is old but cannot die
And his feet keep turning back
To where it all began
Hoping the end will come
On familiar terrain
There is little to be said
Except that they both
Have been marked for death - -
The hill has been sold
He is told
To be quarried