Back to the Country.

 I pass this everyday.  I think it is a thing of beauty.  I hope you will also. 

The old barn sleeps, ignored, beside the highway,
Where tourists thunder by, vacation bound.

And in her dreams she sees her past unfolded,
And ghosts of folk who once walked here-around.

The barn has hosted horses, cows and donkeys,
And witnessed birth and death among the beasts.

Some animals were buried just behind her,
Their struggles done, their weary souls released.

The old barn remembers well her useful lifetime,
Of storing,feeding,housing beasts and men,

Men, of all kinds, their motives changing daily,
The servile beasts, so glad of hay and pen.

This barn has noticed every human feeling,
And many deeds resulting from these moods.

There have been secret deeds done here, in shadows,
Their revelation now would serve no good.

The barn knows she became a private goldmine,
For her first owner, who grew rich and fat.

While treasure seekers' spirits became broken,
Their minds and bodies by ill health attacked.

Of late the old barn has detected whispers,
Of subdivisions planned for this old land

And wonders if the new folks here will notice,
The ghosts of men whose dreams turned to sand.

The barn sees ghosts go wand'ring through her barnyard
She sees them glide in silence,in the night.

They prowl through the old barn's crumbling hayloft,
She hears them weeping softly by moonlight.

Here comes the big machine to tear the barn down.
Here come the new home-owners with their crew.
They do not know about the old barn's tenure,
They bring their own dreams here to start anew.

Just because something is old 
it still has plenty to offer us. Knowledge, History, beauty...
We just need to learn to listen.