Nostalgia shall not pay the bills,
nor history clothe once pine-clad hills;
necessity dictates their fate,
and more will surely close that gate.

Once dotted liberally on our coast,
a thousand of them, we could boast,
but, now, amenities rule the roost,
and mere survival, one can’t boost.

Diminishing prospects place such ports,
between a rock, that’s tough to force,
from roots that spread their hardy stems,
but, face, they must, these last amens.

Outports, proud, give up their ghosts,
to future generations’ boast,
when past, revisited, yields its lore,
and leaving’s just lamented more.

Names, once vibrant, on a map,
shall take a well-deserved nap;
with only memories left to mourn,
and headstones mark where they were born.

Foundations crumble over time,
‘til nothing’s left to prove the crime,
that such resettlement must occur,
to so erase the place we were.
  Submitted By: Robert LeMessurier