Old Friend

Old friend, I knew you well, weekends eve I saw you last.
Despite fire or best efforts, the outcome is the same.
Yet, day by day, at war with futility.
I sit, in guarded patience as the gradient of what what is and what was shifts.
Continuing cognizance of the shifts. No warning nor respecter of circumstance.
These halls a reminder.
Sounds, then echos then silence.
Baited breath.