Shadows Of The Sun
The air is crisp and cold
The old barn stands out in the barren wasteland that surrounds it.
All is quiet; there is no sign of any life.
The sun shines through the few surviving trees, creating beautiful moving
A silent slide-show.
Only the gentle rustle of friction when the breeze brushes the dead grass.
Images and mirages dance in front of your young eyes.
The Barn door creeks.
Your fantasy is shattered.
When you see your mother
Hung by the neck
Hanging on a beam
Her body rustles and sways like the dead grass
Because you let the breeze in.