Just chatted with my brother back in Billings Montana, he
told me about the old and small valley we used to hunt rabbits in as kids. Now its a private community, almost a
gated community and the place is now all expensive homes and those who drive anything other then an Audi or Lexus are unwanted.
Got me to thinking.
Forgetting the Line of Time
It just an old country road
passing through fields where I was young
where I learned to hunt and fish, farm, and live
Now its a paved road with expensive houses
and the ‘new people’ haven’t a memory to give
for to them the land’s song was never sung
for them, no history is sowed
They possess, but don’t feel it
they control but don’t know the span of days
and in the end they pass on in time unaware
of what and who came before, no memory rouses
to them it is only the now of which they care
and sad I watch the price of history they slay
and do so uncaring even a bit