The Barn

We met in a barn during winter time. It smelled of fresh sawdust and rain. Moonlight illuminated your face, shining on your auburn eyes, open wide with desire. We sat next to the fireplace, warm and crimson with crackling logs laughing at our awkward silence. Your artist hands felt like silk as they brushed the hair from my face. Laughter from our friends spilling upstairs, but we barely even noticed.
I was taught to hide my feelings, to keep the seeds buried deep inside where no one can harm them. That winter night, quietly wrapped in your safe embrace, my feelings began to bloom. We talked all night until the wild rooster began to shout and the barn was enveloped with a garden of wildflowers. When the room began to glitter from the sun shining through the old wavy windows I knew you were my farmer.

a reply to: Jennyfrenzy

I can imagine this barn in my head.
Your descriptions are very vivid. I am very much in like with this one.

Very nice imagery.

a reply to: Jennyfrenzy

I do love a nice image scene in my head. And you certainly did that. Nice work

a reply to: LucidLucinda

Thanks

a reply to: Night Star

Thanks NightStar

a reply to: TheDoctor46

Thanks Doctor!
That's what I was going for

What draws a line between short stories vs. Poetry. This is an excellent example of where to define one or the other. I try to write metered poetry because it what I prefer and often hear in my mind, but have always tried to make poetry that evokes an emotional response which you have done excellently here!

a reply to: Jennyfrenzy

I was raised in the country and this brought back all the sights and scents of that! Great Piece!!!S+F!!!