Updated: Sep 11, 2020
Wondering about in the dusty barn
Out while the sun set up to rise,
I found back pieces of forgotten history.
A displaced picture in black and white,
The dusty plume of a holiday hat
And the rusty blade of a long-forgotten cutlass
Among Many other many beautiful things of vivid memories.
The occasion was hard yet simple
The trip rather very hard from the latter.
On the last moments, I saw
A puckered old face to remember
Which once did pass not so soon after
And out came up my bottle and trap
The muffled sounds of the walls of the barn
In which lay cold and barren
The left out things of old.
And as I passed the last of the heaps
A lonely drip slithered down from within.
11th of May 2016
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