Generations

March 31, 2010
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Generations come and go,
Yet ugly gray prisms survive
Affected, but never destroyed,
By Mother Nature’s keen eye.

The damage can all be seen,
Saved within the hard
Knotted grain, affecting more the
The pine, now hopeless and scarred.

Memories were held by
Pegs flying in the sky,
Supporting the barn,
Surviving all; never to die.

Now the graceful structure
Is torn down; detached from mourners:
A lifetime of happiness
Shoved in one dusty corner.





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