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By John I. Blair

The piece of land is vacant now;
No one dwells there any more.

Once a house stood on this spot
That presently is ravaged soil
Bereft of any solid sign
That lives transpired began,
Unfolded, maybe ended
In the years that passed

When a shape of wood and brick
Occupied this space
With walls, a roof, that sheltered
Laughter, tears, solemnity and
Silliness all that makes a home
Now gone forever in an eyeblink.

But somewhere, someone

2015 John I. Blair

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