Our mind it shall play tricks on us <br />in a welcome and tantalizing way <br />the lucky passers-bye who can see <br />a vision of ourselves playing in the hey <br /> <br />It would appear that we have been here before <br />in such a place where the dark grows darkest <br />and bright light filters in between the cracks <br />guiding ones foot steps that could not resist <br /> <br />The rooster is crowing atop the weather vane <br />smells of flap jacks, and bacon cooking in the air <br />moms dishing out vittles with a checkered apron on <br />our loved one's some here and some gone are there <br /> <br />O' such power does this thing of rotted wood hold <br />over our wondering, restless, and weathered souls, <br />to many of whom shall pass it by; just an old red barn, <br />but us lucky ones are in that field, digging those holes <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Inspired by Joseph Anderson <br />"A Haven From Life's Storm "<br /><br />Edwin Baldwin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-old-red-barn/
