The Old Barn Ode

Out in the country where the corn grows tall
sits an old barn without any paint at all.
The gray metal roof still casts its sheen
over the vegetation in a vast sea of green.
On any given Sunday if you were to drive by
you’d probably journey on since it wouldn’t catch your eye.
But there’s a secret within the walls of this particular barn
and I’m compelled to stop today and spin a family yarn.
Once upon a time there was a two story house that stood
to the south of the barn across from the chicken coop.
A young German Shepherd Dog frolicked in the yard
while my Grandma churned the butter and my uncles played and sparred.
Grandpa was on the tractor out in the field
while my Mother placed in the pan the potatoes she just peeled.
Later on that night if you were to venture past
you would hear the trombones playing with nary an errant blat.
But today the rickety chicken coop and the house are both long gone
and I must end my reminiscing for it’s time to move along.
But as I pull away from the barn in the middle of the corn
I feel a certain longing and my heart seems so forlorn.
Empty chairs and empty tables and empty homes and barns
hold within their memories a lifetime of family yarns.
-T Deffely
19 August 2018

The Gordon Bower farm Haskins, Ohio