Poetry Wednesday – Bette Davis

Old building in Vancouver surrounded by skyscrapersA long time ago

My favourite story was

The Little House

It’s about a little house

She lives in the country

She has a little picket fence

Little birds visit her

She’s pretty and happy

And life is good

Then a building goes up beside her

And another

And another

The little house is dwarfed by the city

Big stinky trucks drive by

The little house starts to fall apart

This is the part where I would get scared and sad and anxious

What will happen to the little house?

Are they going to tear her down?

Big trucks come

And workmen

Is this the end of the little house?

No!

No.

The trucks and workmen are there to move the little house

They take her off her foundations

And move her to the country

Where she lives happily ever after

I saw a building in Vancouver

Made me think of the little house

A hundred years ago she must have been majestic

All brownstone and decorative

Cornices and corbels

Soaring to the sky

She is now completely surrounded by enormous glass and metal structures

She is dwarfed and small

But she isn’t insignificant

She stands out

Like Bette Davis would stand out in a sea of  Emma Stones

She is regal and proud and clearly

Not taking any shit

From the sparkly giants around her

She caught my eye

Lovely

Deserving of respect

Similar to the little house

But different in so many ways

She is old and wise

She has seen the city come down

And grow up around her

She has stories

Some too dark to tell

I’m sure

She doesn’t need to be uprooted

Returned to the country

This is where she belongs

She is the city

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