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The Barn

By Imogene Barger                                                              Rights reserved                                                                           Return to <Poems and Stuff>

I was built strong and tough in nineteen and four
I have stood through two World Wars and many more.
Built with cottonwood boards from a sawmill long gone.
Put on a sturdy foundation of cement and stone.

Cartwright walked from town with tools in hand
Built my roof and walls the best in the land.
The loft hides kittens and the pigeons that coo.
The kids played there though ordered not to.

Gone is the last of those sweltering hot days
The sun is sending down its more gentle rays.
I catch a glimpse of a long V in the sky,
As I listen to the plaintive wild goose cry.

The late butterfly flits about with all its charm
And the years final harvest has come to the barn.
I am filled to the brim with good grain and hay.
Enough to last all through winter’s long day.

I’m now very old and look tattered and torn
But I’ve stood tall and proud through many a storm.
Mice, rats, and wild animals now creep and crawl
Where the milk cows once ate hay from their stall.

Today they burned me down to the cold, cold ground.
I fell slowly in with a strange crackling sound.
They buried my bones deep so they could now farm
Over the place where I stood full of pride and charm.

The wheat will grow tall and the cattle will graze
Where I spent so many long and eventful days.
My life has vanished like a late summer rain,
Soon only vague memories of me will remain.


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