The Old Run Down Barn

Will it be the death of me?

Colleen Millsteed

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The Old Rundown Barn. Will it be the death of me? A poem by Colleen Millsteed.
Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash

I am a country farm girl, as I was raised on and around the farm
When I say raised, I didn’t actually live full time on the land,
We really lived in a house in town, where I could attend school
But we would stay on the farm as much as we could withstand.

See there was no real abode or modern amenities, just an old tin shack
Inside this tin shack, there was only enough space for a large dining table,
An old three seater bench car seat, a wood stove and a kerosene fridge
In the evening a mattress was placed on the table so sleep was enabled.

About 100 metres away was another, larger structure build on this land
An old run down barn, full of nothing but junk, that shouldn’t be standing,
A structure that was dubiously built about 100 years ago, at the very least
With it’s red paint peeling, timber doors buckled and missing some cladding.

We were forbidden from investigating or playing in or around this old barn
As my parents knew it was not safe and expected it to collapse years ago,
But that old run down barn stubbornly held on, just waiting for the time
When…

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