THE TANNERY IN MILTON MILLS NH
You lean in on yourself, like a dilapidated
And aged Yankee dowager, dirty white,
Grey and black, windows, panes
Violated, letting in all the elements can carry.
You stand in the middle of the village
And speak of better times, when prosperity
Was the watchword, and people were able to find
Work, live and grow, love and worship.
No longer…as you crumble all that remain
Are pensioners, antique dealers, a few poor,
And some dreamers, all trying to scrape a
Desperate life from an unforgiving New England hollow.