In A field in the Valley
Where once was a farm
surrounded by blue skies
Sits a old tattered Barn..
The farmer has kept it
to store hay and straw
Food for his Livestock
it’s stacked wall to wall…
Near by is a foundation
that once held up a home
with outlines of a garden
That’s now overgrown…
the fields seem to be saying
“what makes us a farm
is within the old walls
Called the heart of a Barn…”
By Connetta Jean
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem