Apr. 10, 2018

The Barn

Inside again at last,
I stood and paused,

The expanse overhead
Letting beams of sunlight
In through the cracks,
Particles of dust flickering by...

Hand hewn beams
Held a simple rope swing
Which I’d fly as high as I could,
Right up to the rafters
In breathtaking delight!

The air inside was heavy
With the smell of wood
And damp mosses;
The floor a sweet, soft, dark earth,
From times gone by...

Swallows dove in and out
Mice would scatter
In the strewn about hay,
And I’d sing the songs of my childhood,
Like no one was listening.

To own this memory,
Is pure heaven.

Kira Braun