Tuesday, July 15, 2014

The Persistence of Memory


I love old barns,
so unapologetically themselves


How I long to romanticize them;
how they resist


I'd like to spend the night in one,
be the drum to its hollow ribs
  

And ere the sunlight broke its fast,
warp and melt like Dali's clock


4 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

I grew up with old barns. We were still using them at the time but they still had much of this charm. All gone now. I'm saddened by that.

Sarah Hina said...

We have an abundance around here, Charles. I used to go by without noticing them at all. Now they have a pull on me.

Aniket Thakkar said...

They look more fun till you have to live in one. At least, in this side of the world.

Had to spend a couple of nights in one, an year ago. Mosquitoes were the nicest of the assorted insects that feasted on me there.

Also, barns with cracked roofs, are not meant for late risers like me.

I'm sure your experience would turn out much better than mine. :)

Sarah Hina said...

Probably not. But I DID admit that I long to romanticize them.

Mosquitoes love me. I'm their favorite flavor.

And I'm also allergic to hay.