An Old Barn Poem by ERNEST CLARY

I seen an old barn in disrepair
tin missing from the roof
the door hanging on one hinge
no one seems to care
it made me cringe
such a beautiful sight I say
now eroding by night and day
standing there on a dirt floor
moisture taking its toll
soon it will be no more
a skelectal remains
with no soul
a pulley hanging in the loft with a rope of some loose threads
some molded hay near the wall
where animals made their beds
a window frame with no glass on the east wall
sorrounded by grass
three feet tall
the sagging loft
ready to fall
some old crocks plugged with cork
in the corner with an old axe
and a rusted pitch fork
remnants of some old nail kegs and bird cages
once thriving with life
now falling to the ages