The ground was hard-frozen,
The lights from Manhattan bright,
Competing with the clear stars above.
Already the bulldozer tracks noted
The beginning of destruction.

We reminisced, as friends do.
The time we played with my son
As he kicked his first goal.
Kite-flying in the spring - watching
My child grow up together.

I bade farewell to my friend
And trudged home. The next day
The chain-link fence was locked
And my friend, the old field,
Was no more. Farewell.