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/