There was a barn once painted red
which stood on grandpa's old homestead.
T'was built so very long ago -
a sorry sight. I told him so.
I often, as a boy, had wondered
why it hadn't ever timbered.
I knew the sagging rafters creaked
and roof, with missing shingles, leaked.
I stepped inside, the barn doors gone,
found it home for sparrows' song.
Circled they, around freely,
over the floors in man's debris.
No matter which way I would glance,
dust in sunlight rays would dance.
Warning cobwebs seemed to sketch.
Between the timbers, they would stretch.
Foundation laid in cobblestone
but its sure footing wasn't known.
Between some stones were gaping cracks
that could not hide the basic facts.
Every post in building leaned,
wall to wall had needed cleaned.
Winter winds would whistle through.
That big ol' barn had lost, I knew.
Its only purpose, couldn't render -
so it offered full surrender.
The weather's sin had taken toll
and wind and sleet had found its soul.
That ol' barn is much like us
and in our need we'll make a fuss.
Our sagging souls are so uncouth
that we no longer seek the truth.
Deceit flies in our open door
'til we care little anymore.
We’d rather compromise instead
as cobwebs fill our empty head.
Our minds are filled in sins' debris
with anyone whom we agree.
The love is lost between our bones
and leaves us cold, loosened stones.
Will our beliefs stand firm, upright -
or will we yield to stormy blight?
Are we responsible instead -
or our character really dead?
Now over the years, time has lapsed
and long ago that barn collapsed.
Now as I look at its demise,
I listen to the worlds last cries....
©2008 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED