The smell of wine that haunts the property,
Combined with sights of fermentation tanks,
The sound of wind that whistles silently,
Through holes made by the old man’s endless clanks.

Old factory has gone through countless pain,
Walls vandalized by boys with art as skills,
And windows break by accidents again,
The factory that stands over the hills.

Infested with the scavengers of night,
Designed by creepy crawlers’ precious silk,
The young blind bats discovers to take flight,
A home for animals to live was built.

The light shines through the foggy years old glass,
As it stands with the memories it has.