October 5, 2020

The Old Barn by Lyn Crain

A weathered, crumbling, old two storied barn on the edge of town
Barely noticed it was one of many buildings all run down
Two old posts hold a rusty old chain with what was left of a sign
Next to the road, a grove of overgrown, neglected black pine
Only one night of the year, there is evidence something evil goes on
Even the old owl is silent, hidden in the pine, patiently waiting for dawn
The few towns’ people left lock their doors, put down their shades
Covering their ears until the screeches of agonizing pain fade
In the morning light, the elders look for survivors of the demon fest
The lucky ones still able to moan will be medically assessed
The undertaker will deliver the dead, to the graveyard
Waiting for elders to begin a mournful service of fond regard
The owl howls at closing, grateful to be among that survived
Until next year, all will avoid the old barn where the demons reside.

Lyn Crain is a published poet who prefers darker poetry. She hopes to publish a Halloween anthology. You can follow her on https://lyncrain.com/

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