Parkway Manor Poem by Phil Anderson

Parkway Manor, grand brick display,
Once filled with life, now disarray,
Within its walls, stories untold,
A rich history, never to unfold.

The manor now stands alone,
A historic presence made of stone,
Its walls once filled with life and sound,
Now silent, empty, and unsound.

The windows and doors all now boarded,
Pipes and plumbing all corroded,
No one enters, few remember,
A decaying shell, to soon surrender.

The time has come, it's final fate,
The wrecking ball, it's last date,
Demolition, brick by brick,
A woeful sight that won't be quick.

For ninety years it stood tall
To now be razed, it's final fall,
Once grand and proud, then left to rot,
Soon to be an empty lot.