When the first brick fell

we could’ve picked it up and put it back,

mortared it in place.

When the second, the third, fell

there was still time. It would’ve

been a simple task.

We saw them laying there, thought

it was no big deal.

We would take a day, a couple of days,

soon, and we would fix it.

Take the time to do it right,

only we never had the time.

More bricks fell, we pretended we

didn’t see them;

we no longer knew which went where.

I am not sure where the turning point was

but all of a sudden it was too much,

we couldn’t fix it anymore.

It was too big for us.

And everyone who looked at it shook

their heads sadly, could offer no

advice, could only remember the

days when it had stood solid and


Could only regret.

by Cher Bibler