Old things had to make way for the new
Pulling back on the lever, the wrecking ball swung and smashed into the wall
Everywhere the ball hit, destruction reigned
Reducing the old structure into historic rubble
And she knew she was good at what she was doing
The crane danced to her choreography, each pirouette punctuated by the boom of connection
Enabling her to place the final period to that building’s story
Moss draped trees swung in the humid breeze
As Roger held his shotgun up to his shoulder
Ready to pull the trigger if one of those damn crocs showed back up
Silently he waded into the tepid waters a bit more.
He never saw the one come up from behind.