End of Days

The walls show their faces, their masks now removed.
Homely decorations now misplaced or misconstrued.
Packing up, closing down, turning in and shutting out
A once constant existence has become a future all in doubt.

A bittersweet odour now chokes the dusty air,
nostalgic tales of broken glass and young lives laid bare.
Memories like wafting smoke, cling to all like dust;
dancing fire and soaring voices expounded their youthful lust.

Rejoicing in juvenility, their future temporarily on hold
it was time to smell the roses and search for hidden gold.
Under shadow of grey concrete they laughed and played and sang
but the picket fences could not hold back Father Time's old chain-gang.

Friendships forged and lessons learnt, while the cars all drove by.
Windows cringed at the felicitous binge, kids all on a high.
Sunsets on the front steps now in final days,
two years have rushed past, in a beautiful fiery blaze.