I went to Town
Each day this week
to mourn
The death by violence
bringing down after storm
Of noisy protests ,struggle
to save ,the life of
The Monument to history
Upon which the Town
Was born.

The Street stood narrowing
quiet,
As Towns-folk gazed on
Steel plated ramming rod
Eyes filled with tears
not all amongst the
head shake and nod
from dust-raised- haze.

But in thoughts
of sounds remembered
Of how the Organ played
The Dances, where Bill
met Sue
Song duets ,Highland Pipes
and the Bandman's stage.

Competitions,in which
a daughter ,tapped her way
Like Fairy.
In Patent Leather shoes
While her brother sang
The Blues.

Red Velvet Frocks
were seen to rise again
Amongst grimy dust
Of 100 years gone by
Others lace of mauve
Draped in powder blue
Replaced by Shot-silk-taffeta
In Nineteen Fifty -two.

Black leather ties
to leather jacketed
youths
DA haircuts-winkle-picker
shoes
Stiletto Heels pitting
Dark stained powdered
Floors
While Mayors, Dignitaries,Soldiers
Escorted ,Ladies Fair
Through Swinging Solid
Kauri Doors.

For them I stand
I quote
A Last Lament
In verse
For Babes
Concieved in the past midnights
And before this new dawn
When the music died
But rythms
Lingered on.

Into new age
Old cement flies on
the winds of change
To Rubble, ash ground
to finest grain
Drape,disperse,
Onto tower tall rooftops
Into mirrored window glass
Fix our history's stain.

And should I curse?