Of Intrinsic Value


 

It stood against time for a century,
But then, got in progresses way.
Before the first board razed,
Hereford cattle shipped to market.
Then – they came at noon —
Bulldozers tearing down the ancient barn.
Soon grassy field’s plowed under,
Gone, the sight of a gloried past.

Men of profit claimed it had to go,
Making room for what is new.
But now an open, empty, unused lot
Sits blankly vacant in foundation’s print.
No more landmark to judge distance by.
No more hallmark, hard work, history.
An open scar – and simple proof of loss —
Of those things of intrinsic value.

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