A weathered gate
leads to the old estate.
People hate
what they do not understand.
Ideals built on sand.
Foundations crumble
as the bulldozer rumbles,
sweeping all before.
It is the law
of progress.
There must be redress.
Let justice be done
though the heavens fall.
The ancient wall
that has stood the test of time
goes without reason or rhyme.
The crime
was to be great.
It is getting late.
Dogs bark and the caravan moves on.
It is going, going, gone.
The Estate
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