Houses built around the lake <br /> With "no trespassing" signs <br /> Where was once our swimming hole <br /> Country Club meets and dines <br /> From a cool, clear, crystal spring <br /> We drew our water to drink <br /> Waste was dumped from paper mills <br /> and made the whole place stink <br /> This all sounds crude, and so it is <br /> But the facts remain the same <br /> Memories are all that we have left <br /> No one willing to take the blame <br /> Changes, progress, or so they say <br /> But I have a different mind <br /> I liked it just the way it was <br /> Florida, my home, pristine - kind<br /><br />Esther Stenstrom<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/florida-progress-it-s-called/
