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.