Oh, how I hate to see history fall.
I had to hurry, it was already there,
and crushing.
Once the glory of the prairie farm,
now reduced to rubble and burned.
How many stories it could tell and
wild storms It’s withstood
only to be laid low in a minute
by backhoes and tractors.
I think I’m going to go hug my antique barn.
Oh, I love old barns and buidings too. I always wonder what their story is - the tales they could tell - the events that unfolded within their walls. So sad to see them go.
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