The Old Barn Poem by Richard Netherland Cook

The old barn now stands deserted,
Down next to the water well,
Alone in a field of grass and weed,
By the old sign that says, 'For Sale'.

Weathered now by many winters,
Of cold and rain and howling wind,
By summer suns beating down,
On a roof of rusting tin.

The old barn paint is now gone,
Its' wood now silver gray,
And the once filled up hay loft,
Now smells of rot and decay.

No more new sweet meadow hay,
Is stacked up by the bale,
And no more farmer sits beside,
The milk cow with a pail.

It's just a home now,
For some mice that run and play,
And maybe an ole' Jack Rabbit,
Who wanders in one day.

The lowing of the animals,
Not heard as daylight falls,
And the children playing, no longer rings,
Within the old barn walls.

The old barn now stands empty,
No shelter to bird or beast,
No echoes of the old cowbells,
Coming home to feast.

As the years slip slowly by,
And the aging process increases,
It looks as if a may collapse,
Into a thousand pieces.

Some workers came the other day,
They took the old barn down,
And hauled it off to beautify,
A rich man's house in town.

Now the boards of silver gray,
Line the walls of someone's den,
And the beauty of that old barn,
Lives to breathe again.