Brass
Pavements,
spat on.
Statues,
shat on.
Marble and metal heavyweights,
like huge paperweights
Tributes to persons from another age:
forgotten,
except by the pigeons
and their stained reminders
as a burger wrapper takes to the air
and tumbles down the street
in a rustle
amid the bustle
of a city on the move.
In contrast to the statue:
a memory given permanence;
an old campaigner prominence.
But soon it will rain
and extricate it from the excrement
of the ignorant pigeons;
and the crapping crows.
My Words, My World 