That Old Barn
Shattered sunlight
mason jars
rafters hidden in night
walls leaning from past wars?
Weathered wood
hiding secrets
what would you say, if you could?
But I have seen nothing yet!
Vines climbing
the rusty tin roof
but your not minding
as bluebirds sing, very aloof
your ghost is all that remains
barely standing in the forest rubble
I would love to see more, but I felt a drop of rain
and your dirt floor will surely puddle.
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