Old barns in the south are fading
fast,
Soon to be a thing of the
past.
Standing alone in the field of
green,
The most beautiful building I've ever
seen.
Built by men that were strong and
tough,
They never complained, and they never
gave up.
Back when your neighbor was your
friend,
A simple handshake let you know you could
trust him.
When the barn needed raising, and work had
to be done,
Your neighbors would help from dawn to
the setting of the sun.
Knowing all along there would be
no pay,
That was their life, the
southern way.
Daniel L Keith
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Do you remember the barn we had when we were little?
We used to climb up to where the square bales of hay were and squeezed in between them and made forts to play in.
I love old barns. They seem so sad when they're not being used.
Good poem Daniel, love ya...
David Keith
Regis
Much success~
Barbara Henry
Be always safe,
Karen
Never having been to the south, I haven't seen this. This is a truly fantastic and heartfelt write.
Mary