The Red Barn
The Red Barn
The red barn stands, silhouetted against the sky.
The oak tree wraps its tired limbs about her
As if to protect her from time and age.
Her roof is sagging, color faded ,
An errant plume of color along her frame.
Yet, proud she stands, remembrance of a happy time.
Shelter from the rain, chidren
Playing in her hair, lovers hiding in her shadows.
Beauty I see now, not bright, not boastful.
With dignity and respect she bows to age.
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