King of the Barn

King of the Barn

(reading time less than 2 minutes)
When you reach my age in life, the most enjoyment is looking back.
Memories are cherished, mostly because we didn’t know then, how we’d feel now.
As teens our worries were few, we didn’t have bills to pay, or kids to raise.
All that concerned us then, was what we could do to have fun, and how.
.
My teenage years are what I mostly revere, I lived in the country, on a farm.
We had a great red barn, two hay lofts, chicken coupe and four horse stalls.
After school, when my work was done, the barn was mine, my kingdom to beget.
I did homework and hobbies there, made and fixed things, with tools hung on the walls.

My memories becalm me, it was my joy and pleasure, I was in total charge.
Who would think I’d enjoy my lonesome, in heat or cold, but it was my domain you see.
With the big door open, my Mom could always see me, working at something or another.
I could hear the dinner bell, or when she called my name, “RUSSELL”, that was for me.

I wore a bear coat in the winter, like the Eskimos wear in the far north.
Kept me warm as toast in frigid months, when I worked at my bench watching the snow.
I know the feelings of both very hot and very cold, but there is no place like in a barn,
No sound like stillness of snow, or rain on a tin roof in a barn, same today as a long time ago.