The dilapidated old barn was a sight for a sore eye.
Painted red some day long ago, it now stood gray
and slightly crooked as if to look curious and ask why?
It still contained some mildewed and musty wet hay
and the horse and cow corals attached were a bad lie.
It stood there nonetheless and seemed to have a lot to say.
So, I sit and leaned my back up against her and by and by
I heard what she had been holding back all these years,
I saw from her warped and dried out planks the rush of tears.
She let it all out what she'd seen all this time, her hopes and fears
for us, her builders, where we had been, our fars and our nears.
The run down and wooden-nailed remnant from the past
seemed to breathe in and out as she let go all her memories
coming to life this one last time, knowing it would be her last.
Now her rafters were fully webbed and full of bumble bees
from a nest up in the loft where honey dripped as bees cast
round for more nectar from the local fields of colorful daisies.
But the barn was now just an old signpost that was fading fast...
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mindbringer, 29 May 2016
