Still standing, weathered and kanted
A thousand winds could not topple this old man
The keeper of hay, and apples, vinyard concorde, purple
This old man has seen his day
Has contributed countless harvest to market
He is tired now, and justly so.
Leave him to rest in peace, with the empty lofts
The dead horses, and rusted plow
Old man calling...a simple request, to just remember
And revere.
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