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Lonely Barn
August 27, 2014
A lonely barn
Sits in a field
I see it
Through the train window
The sky is gray
Draped in clouds
Like a blanket
Over the sky
A lonely barn
Bright red
Nestled in the field
In the middle of nowhere
Raindrops spatter the window
The train’s whistle blasts
And we squeal to a halt
Right next to the green field
Where in the center lies
That lonely little barn
A lonely barn
No house
No road
Just me and that lonely barn.
© Anonymous
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This poem was inspired on a train ride to North Dakota. I woke up to a rainy morning and the train had stopped in the middle of nowhere, beside an empty field with a red barn sitting in it.