I remember sleeping in the barn as a kid. I remember it to be an adventure. Now the old farm is gone, but memories linger on:
Last night I slept in the barn
once more. The sounds were
different, in that no horses shifted.
their feet, nor did cows chew on
grain or hay. There were, however,
the scampering of little mice feet
as they searched for some morsels of
food. The wind crawled in the
spaces left by aging clapboards.
I wrapped my old blanket a bit
tighter around me waiting for the
moon to reach the west window.
Years of memories swirled around
like snowflakes in a blizzard.
These had been piled in the back
by my mind;s snowplow, pushed aside
by the passing years. Did I
want to shovel out, or merely rest
from the day \that had sent me
to find solice there?
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