Our Town Becomes Modern

I miss the red house

porch all around

slave quarters in back

ivy on iron gates

arches for ladies

to gossip beneath.

That house promised

yesterday had value

ancestors wisdom.

Now I know.

Old things

lovely things

pieces of identity

testimonies of heritage

have not so much worth

as parking lots.

Author: Darlene Franklin-Campbell

Poet, novelist, artist

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