Where the brick is exposed

 I sit in the sunday sun light rays.
relaxing my body and mind.
I look up to the big walls of pale gray.
That layer of concrete exposing red brick at random intervals.
There is something aged about this surface.
A single black vulture sits atop as if waiting, not soaking up the sun.
Not searching the open roads for carcasses.
Just at home upon the structure.

A place only shadows know.
A place bird feces have stained.
A place people used to inhabit.
Where the utilities have long been cut.
I stare up at the great structure.
Through dirty glass, moss and shade.
Something flickers, nay something beckons.
My eyes searching for an apparition.