out of monroe

The Barn.

So, my time is near it's end,
The days of future now have come
                to pass.
Evening descends,
Arrayed in its callous disregard.
Neglect has reduced  me to exposed
                 and ruined timbers.
Life's storms have sheared
                 my skin off-
The facade is gone-
The emptiness of ruin
Exposed for all the uncaring
                 to ignore.

Once a treasure house of varied blessings,
But Time has only selfishly taken
                  never  offering restoration.
Even with the advent of the decay,
Still, Time greedily used me
Until I could offer no more
And then cheaply cast me aside
                    for another.
Along 88, above the Little Barren,
I collapse in the neglect of
                    the uncaring.
But.
But, but one has stopped
And enquired of me,
And I feel the flickering warmth
Of Hope one final time.