The sight of an old barn
Deserted and alone
In winter's sleet and snow.
Stirs memories of a barn
I knew long ago.
Our childish laughter
Filled the rafters
As we played and jumped
In fragrant sun-dried hay -
Then down the chute we went
Into the stalls below.
So vivid are the memories
My nose begins to twitch
With the musty barn odors
Of feed - grains in their bins -
Of old leather tack -
Harnesses hanging on wooden pegs.
Now I hear the jingle of their bells
As old Ned pulls the sleigh.
Those happy days - Sweet are the memories.

by Aletha Rappaport

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