The yard at my grandma's house

The land where my Grandparent's house once set has been cleared. The area has been zoned commercial and a new business is in the process of locating there.
The rose arbor is gone. The fish pond is, too.
The mimosa tree under which we had a million tea parties is no more.
The side yard,  where the pony huckachee grazed, is now covered with cement.
The massive trees, around which were bricked and concrete borders, no longer stand to offer shade over a yard planted with iris and day lilies the crimuns Grandma called "apostle lilies.
lilac trees.
Pawpaw's shop and our playhouse, off the patio, the storm cellar and the sleeping porch exist now only in our memories.
The garage Pawpaw said grandma would someday "take over the hill" when she pulled in to it, was torn down with the house. All of the swings are gone:
the bag swing hung from a tall tree near the creek that marked the edge of the property,
the yard swing, the board swing and the porch swing.
Grandma's carefully trimmed evergreen topiaries became must overgrown before the place sold to its present owner.
The evergreen onto which great glass bulbs were twined at Christmas, the fence separating the yard and the garden where sweet peas grew, stood for the longest time, where they always stood, but no more.
The mail box and paper boxes we raced to, the steps where our names and hand prints were placed before the cement hardened were removed.
All signs of the flag pole and the gourd tree, her vegetable and flower gardens have been erased.
Only the hill where we practiced cart wheels bears testament that the site was once something a akin to paradise for three little girls and our own children after us.