in memory of the sentenced library

In memory of… the sentenced library
___
So these bricks have been torn down
And books have learnt to fly after all
We summon them
They fly to us in our homes, in our devices

Who needs these walls, this balustrade?
There was something here before
with none to remember,
what it was, what it meant, to whom

This tunnel here, too, will come down one day
And many a car may mourn its passing
A little boy reading the ‘The Little Prince’
Etched on the memory of the crumbling wall

Places have memories that crumble with progress
Stones and bricks always have stories to tell
It takes a poet to hear them though
And pen them down

For that's what poets do