The Farm


There’s a weakened old barn,

Still down on the farm,

Where we lived, long years ago…

With a creek flowing by,

It’s sound like soft sigh,

Touched by the breezes that blow.


The roof sags low now,

 Fields untouched by plow,

All In need of repairing touch…

A few nails driven here,

Along with a tear,

To bring back the place we loved much.


House collapsed, fallen down,

 As it rests on the ground,

Like tired old woman asleep,

Thoughts of hours spent there,

On the porch in a chair,

Flood over me, cause me to weep.


There’s a blue sky above,

Sounds of birds that I love,

So Nature has still stayed the same,

All the things now gone,

Both the good and the wrong,

Prove no one but man is to blame.


Our childhood spent there,

Free from worry and care,

Made the memories we’ve kept all these years,

How we miss from the past,

Wish those years could just last,

To erase all our sorrows and tears.


©  2004  Loree (Mason) O’Neil 

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