There’s a building down the road.
When I left for school it was,
And for as long as I can remember had been
A funeral hall.

It was always an odd shade of optimistic peach.
Being across from a strip mall,
Complete with a Sports Authority didn’t help
Its oddity.

But now,
Six months have passed.

The building still stands,
Its clock embedding in the sign,
Oversized.

It seemed to count down until
it was your time to have a funeral.

Now it was ticking for a new reason.
It was marking time for the still-peachy building,
Now a consignment store,

Eerily of the same font.