Anticipation is breathing through,

Friday’s atmosphere.

A chapter has reopened for

my photographic muse.

December winds will never deter children,

and grandchildren of the mill.

Eagerly surrounding Lace’s clock tower.

As symphonies of motion pictures,

flash against sturdy red brick.

Memories of our ancestors’

contributions to this Lackawanna Valley.
Scranton’s Lace tower welcomed—

Europe’s citizens to our land of opportunity.

Scranton’s Lace tower witnessed from her

aerial view the every changing cityscape.

Scranton’s Lace tower kept her time proudly,

as the intrinsic element of life.

A mist envelops my fondest recollections,

of Aunt Margaret and my mother entering

those Scranton Lace metal doors.

As distant voices of mill workers are encapsulating,

the air.

Their descendants are counting down from ten to zero.

With a vision so brilliant, it should become a movie scene.

On this shadowy eventide, illumination has been reborn.

© Mary Anne Abdo

This poem was written in December of 2023, right after the lighting of

the Scranton Lace tower that has not been lit since the 1960’s. https://weeklyprompts.com/2024/06/01/weekly-prompts-colour-challenge-blue-2/