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Array
(
[sid] => 32217
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Barn
[time] => 2004-01-20 16:14:28
[hometext] => why do we keep so much stuff.....
[bodytext] => ********************************** Hinges squeak as I pull the barn door open. It swings with aged bones creaking and the sun pours in like honey. The smell of oil and sawdust assail my nostrils with a pleasantly annoying smell. There are boxes everywhere, stacked in disarray across the floor. The table saw looks ominous to me, I hate the sound it makes. It looks silently back at me. The light switch is right where it should be, but my fingers fumble anyway. The ancient narrow stairs lead to the loft. A place where bats nest in the Christmas decorations. I think I should have brought a flashlight, but I forgot in my haste to look for treasure. I know it is here somewhere amid the musty boxes, sleeping bats, and the light up Santa Clauses. It's quiet up here, the rough hewn rafters look quite strong despite their age. The canoe rests upside down until May when it gets taken down to the lake for the summer. Old lawn furniture, boxes of dishes, old 45 records collect dust on a homemade wooden holder, these are my treasures so carefully stored. Sidetracked now, I can't remember what I came up here for. gmm 2004 [comments] => 4 [counter] => 192 [topic] => 21 [informant] => Merry [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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