Written by
Misty Yarnall posted on May 13, 2017 12:22
Oh Old Barn
how much time is left
to sit on pail bottoms
and chat?
How many more directions
will begin with the words—
the house with the beat up,
red barn in the back?
I’ve watched my whole life
as your beams overhead caved,
and your rock foundation gave way,
and your creaking walls bent in.
Oh Old Barn,
You’ve withstood nesting birds on your planks,
nibbling mice in your grain pails,
and cattle romping through your fences.
How many more winters
will the snow blow through your walls
and cover the floorboards
and freeze the water pipes?
As you grow feeble,
our baby calves ease off their milk,
the barn cats come back with their mice,
and the children develop responsibility.
Oh Old Barn,
just as you’ve weathered over the years,
my memories of you will fade,
but I will always find stable comfort in your unstable walls.
By Misty Yarnall
Misty Yarnall is a creative writer from Chaumont, New York. She primarily enjoys writing dystopian fiction, but has won 14 awards for her poems and flash fiction. She is a new member of the Poets, Writers, INK in Cape Vincent.
