Corner Man (Poem)

Many said he sat upon his corner,
canvas on a spindly easel,
and painted smile after smile after smile.
Upon filling the canvas,
he would paint it over black, and continue painting smiles.
No one who passed him ever left without happiness on their face.
The corner where he sat stared at a small park,
and millions passed each day.

Then one day, a building rose up scattered,
high, looming and gray.
The park disappeared,
along with the smiles on the man's canvas.
Gloom settled in like nighttime on a bird's nest.
The canvas remained white,
and covered in straight-mouthed faces.

The ink dried, and slowly people forgot where the man sat.
Slowly, people forgot how to smile,
and eventually only splinters of a broken frame lay scattered on the curb.