Ode to a Barn

I was a barn once.

And a barn I remain

but with a less lofty goal,

ashamed of my doors

hanging off the frame,

now a barn with a long lost soul.

There were better times

in the Olden Days

of farm fresh milk

in the Golden Days.

I  was a landmark barn

on a country road

now a highway for folks in a hurry,

but I’m still a barn

and that’s sweet life –

 I’m a barn with a haunting story.

Don’t pass me by without a look.

  Think of me with a vivid past

of  bucolic scenes now in some old book

of a barn with a working cast.

 

 

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