Rusty cans rest on rotting sawdust,
Damp polythene flaps in the cold draught whistling through holes in the walls,
Baling twine hangs from the rafters,
Softly swinging two and fro.
Hay bales line all four walls of the creaking structure,
Gradually decaying as the years pass.
Abandoned bird nests rest on dust covered shelves
Now providing warm homes for hungry mice,
As the seasons change and the cold weather sets in.
A musty scent lingers in the stale air,
Dark spaces reveal old nails and the head of a hammer.
Cobwebs cling to the ancient iron,
The sound of a farmer chopping wood reverberates out of
Each shadowed corner of the old barn.
A cat’s thin silhouette slinks along.
The sun shines through a hole in the wall instantly brightening the atmosphere.
I stare back into my memories,
Those forgotten memories,
The ones of me,
As a little child leaping from bale to bale.
I can feel the tears well up in my eyes,
As I think back to those days.
Now it stands,
Abandoned, forgotten, and beyond repair.
