I gather transience
Is an intrinsic part of the medium
Contrary to the song telling us
'When the poet disappears
His songs are still sung
In the streets long afterwards'*
Art in our modern world
Suffers from obsolescence built in.
Turning into a small alley in Fitzroy
To see my favorite street art
I found it had been painted over
To give way to another one
But really, wasn't there another wall
That would have welcomed your work?
It's ironic to know I'm one of the few
To possess a trace of an original painting
Destroyed forever in a mad rush
To cater for the latest trend.
* L'âme des poètes, Charles Trenet
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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