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About This Poem
Yesterday's Time
As I walk here among the tall straight pines they send
Their secret language spoken out upon the wind
I realize I am surrounded by all that is, as well as that which has always been
And that life doesn't consist only of things we know today
For if you look, it's easy to see, yesterday's time recorded here and I begin
To ponder the question, what part of me will time allow to stay
I'm astounded at the girth of the giant oak, hackberry and pines
Each year of their life is recorded beginning decades ago
Every one has a story of their own inside written there in lines
Stories of plenty, drought and stories they won't show
The old barn was once red but now has simply become
Weathered from sunshine, wind and rain
An old buckboard sits inside, wrought iron step and wood in ruin
I picture as I sit here its many journeys made to meet the train
On the wall hangs bunches of old twine cut to tie bundles of hay
Before machines did the work, back in the Good Ol' Day
Leaned against the wall is a forgotten hubcap from sixty years ago or so
About the things time has recorded here, on and on I could go
As the years go by how will time record today?
Will someone else stand here as these things stay
I've added here the flower bed and a fire ring
I wonder will part of me remain among these other things?
©Donna Jones
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