Home
Broken barn doors swing.
Pigeons fleetingly take wing
Scarecrows long torn to shreds
Boards falling from lopsided sheds
Window panes cracked and shattered.
Back porch peeling and tattered
Pastures over grown, nature reclaimed
Nothing but old memories remain
Of the place I was born.
Rundown and looking forlorn
I remember the olden days
Happy fun loving children at play
Running the trails
Milk splashing from pails
Hay bales left uncurled
In that trouble-free world.
Gone are the days when we were young
And a bright barn door proudly swung.
Standing there in our father’s boots
Our fertile dreams took root.
Hanging by that open door
We were sure there was much more
Than this simple life.
We didn’t realize the gift
And the old world charm
Of life on the family farm.
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