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How many stories do you know,
of what took place here long ago?
What secrets hide in your weathered wood,
of the men who came under your roof and stood.?
Now you stand alone beside the road,
no longer a safe place for the farmers load,
of new mown hay and bags of seed
and the sound of horses as they feed.
The years of sun have changed your face,
a rich patina has given you grace.
Yet you still stand proud and hold your own,
all your secrets of the past have come and gone.
Speak to us of the days gone by,
when your beams were new, and your roof held high,
Tell us of all the things that you have seen, the harvest tall, the grasses green.
We can only see your empty shell,
the vacant loft where memories dwell.
Help us understand the ways of men,
where we're going and where we've been.
~ Jen~ 5/8/2008