In a land where the skies softly weep,\\ {{ ::mensa_scheer.jpg?600|}}
Stand edifices where the shadows creep.\\ 
Fore is a giant of Brutalist might,\\ 
Its concrete arms wrangling the light.\\ \\ 
Jagged and raw, it rises untamed,\\ 
A monument that no softness has claimed.\\ 
Its layers stack with purposeful glee,\\ 
A stoic watcher, silent and free.\\ \\ 
Beyond lies a sibling of a different skin,\\ 
Clad in red, with panes that grin.\\ 
It reflects the day, so sleek and fine,\\ 
A modern dance of line on line.\\ \\ 
Between them lies a verdant seam,\\ 
Graced with trees, in winter's dream.\\ 
Leaves lay scattered, a carpet spun,\\ 
In the quiet pause of the absent sun.\\ \\ 
Together they stand, so different, so bold,\\ 
A story of eras, in silence, told.\\ 
In the city's heart, they quietly bide,\\ 
Side by side, in contrasting pride.