The Water Tower.

The Water Tower

Water Tower,
The rusted flower
They take you piece for piece

Tearing down
Your browning crown
To give the sky release

From you yourself,
The dusty shelf
That no one wants to clean

You sit there open,
Betrayed and broken
Beginning to wane and ween

But no hope will come,
Exposed to the sun,
You are the dying flower

And tomorrow we'll rise
With tears in our eyes
For gone is the Water Tower.

Picture Taken 12.30.08 @ 6:00 PM
Written 9.13.09 @ 11:58 PM