As history goes

When James Grant, the first, of Ellsworth,

decided to divided his land, piece by piece,

When he cut his land, historic era came to a halt.

hundreds of acres that were granted to him,

 from the river bend, to the crest of the hill,

 pass the homestead, to hold and to farm.

 Sliced into neat, bits and pieces, he deeded, or sold,

to family members and other relations, of sorts.

.

Old Mary Vaughn, (probably young at the time,)

was a woman from away with some funds,

she brought  him drawings and plans,

she put forward words and visions,

and got herself a piece of the pie.

For a motel, to be the last word, she said

in modern hospitality she elaborately explained.

First, one building, later two more,

a residence in the center to oversee it all.

Twenty two rooms wide and airy full of light,

The Vaughn Motel, modern facility, with furniture to match,

So declared the proclamation, in the town newspaper

quarter page in size, with Mary’s face,

 on the left side, black and white.

New road overlapped the buildings,

Trees that did not match the plan,

pushed to the back, to open the land for new ones,

picked carefully to adorn the young grass.

Some bushes, seasonal flowers, wood hedges,

and in the center a giant sign, flickering, red and white

come one and all, we are open, let us roll.

Sixty years have passed from that day,

Old Mary Vaughn no longer with us today,

But I who now hold the motel rights,

know this deep in my heart.

 If not kept tight the trees will push back.

And the road will slowly unwrap, and rewind,

to let the broken land come together and bind.

Because trees and building come and go away,

But the land, eternal like time, is here to stay.