A World Of Tissue
Harrison J. Hazeldine
The wind blows and there goes our home.
The clouds cry and buildings die.
The lightning strikes and houses ignite
For in our world nothing is concrete.
When structures are built not to last but rather to fade.
When nothing material can truly be saved
When the world unpaved is a constant reminder of change
For in our world every day is a new slate.
Droplets from the sky wash away our everyday
Leaving nothing for future generations to dismay
For our legacy is only what words can convey
As when your world is made of tissue, change is really no big issue