You stand by the New,

Misshapen by elements

Ravaged by time,

Sunken in the middle

With your bow still held high.

You ponder the New -

At its head

Gay amusements,

Noisy chaos within,

No sags in the middle,

Taut props for its bed -

At your feet The Grand.

Your sudden collapse

In the storm caused alarm,

Spurred into action

Photographers, dignitaries, townsfolk

To capture, inspect you,

Toast your honour.

What treatment

Will they lavish on You?

Botox you,

Rebuild you as new?

Have they asked you

If you want to start anew?

Or will they let Nature

Work you,

Mould you as hers

Until she has you

Complete

And dispersed

In the world?

Yet rumours abound

They'll blast you away -

Alas, Grand Old Dame,

Acts of violence

May still end

Your natural decay.

-Joanne Maria McNally, Ventnor Villas, Hove