Time had never been the enemy.
Generations thrived on the land.
Sun drenched pastures and moon-lit dreams
kept his family strong.

Now this gentle man stands at the edge
of emptiness guarded by barn walls.
The hardened earth floor reflects
abandoned purpose.

Rays of light bleed through
weathered boards, surrendering to time
Mail Pouch Tobacco and
Mason jars filled with leftovers.

Stilled machinery casts a shadow
in the splintered haze,
honoring years of unrelenting
labor and contagious laughter.

The proud man sheds a tear
as his faded brown eyes
inventory sweet memories.

Time was not the enemy.
It passed without fanfare
leaving scars and wrinkles.

Now the frail man stares at
unfinished projects and tools
stained with sweat and grease.

Gone are cultivated fields and the
hum of his John Deere tractor.

Weeds fill the pastures.
Silence fills the barn.

Dad nods to time borrowed.