Welcome to my Kingdom of Red Barns.

In memory I see the barn
Faded red and weather warn
Inside the hayloft ladder stands
It’s rungs worn down from countless hands

From cracks between the sagging walls
The sun slants to the dusty stalls
I hear the barn doors rusty rasp
The summer breeze, the broken clasp

Sweet fragrance of the new moan hay
Still lingers with me yet today
The nail I drove next to the door
Where hung my old rope hackamore

O stay the youthful memory
The barn returns the boy in me
So when I sleep I dream I play
Inside the barn, upon the hay
-Marlin Pine