What is it about barns that tugs the heartstrings
And makes me think of strength and beauty?
Maybe it’s the way a red jewel wears winter curled on its roof
Or how the old timbers speak of age and grace.
Some barns are run down, bare bones
Waiting patiently for a loving coat of paint.
A broken window does not speak of a broken spirit however.
Faded and aging, but still standing —
Just like us.
For more loveliness, please visit: My World!