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Oct 2018
It was it's own little world in it's day
But in this time forty acres not much
Old house and out buildings hauled away
Just something to plow around treated as such
What once was here the plow can't touch
A tear in the dirt a cry in the wind
As the big field machines move now
Dust sting my face when the plow begin
As if to say you should not allow
More than dirt went under the plow
Written by
James Study
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