Sometimes There is Glory

There’s nothing like a run-down shack

That can hold so many stories…

Secretly in rotten boards,

Are many tales of incredible glories.

I do not know the first owners,

But love the shade of their elm tree,

They planted it for their future,

Yet never envisioned me.

The pastures now are redesigned,

Different spaces for horse and sheep…

The constant chores both day and night,

Are the memories I’ll always keep.

That day I moved to the city;

My decision to sell the farm…

Left no jury who wouldn’t convict me,

For causing irreparable harm.

The quest for intellectual growth,

Has never been a mystery,

But sometimes one may realize,

They sacrificed their favorite history.