A ripple in a pond
Upsets the long stillness
Barely making a mark
Just a tiny, little breathe
A reminder of a life
Was this ever more than a stagnant pool?
Could filth have once been beauty?
Surely, surely this cannot be
But what of this nagging feeling?
That a pond was once a river
And a ripple once a roar
And this little stagnant pool
Was once so much more...

It's an almost tangible feeling.