If this old barn could speak…

Just imagine if this old barn could speak.

It could tell us all it knows.

I ran across this poem by Victoria Feathers from 2014. It goes so well with my photograph.

This Old Barn

Imagine if this old barn could speak and tell us all it knows

of heat, and snow and great winds that did blow

The creatures that were boarded here, they lived, they ate, they slept

The mares that birthed their foals, the lambs that played and lept

The folks that bedded in the straw as they were passing by this way

thankful for the gift of rest, wool blankets on the straw they lay

The lovers that crept inside the shadows  to share a stolen kiss,

a small indiscretion, what could be the harm

History in the making, generations come and gone

While farmers work from dawn to dark, the days are very long

This old barn has seen it all through decades of seasons fare

It's secrets are safe inside, no one asks and no one cares

The roof sags, the doors hang, the windows are all gone

If someone doesn't love it soon this old barn will be gone