Home

I walk up this path looking around,

smelling the familiar smells, hearing the sounds I grew up around

and wondering what I am going to do when it will no longer be here.

I reach the barn and looking around I see the bedding,

The grain bins, the tack room, the hay loft

This is home for me.

Walking through the barn gives me a good feeling

A feeling of serenity and of peace

Like all the problems in the world were left at the start of that path

Nothing else in the world matters at that point

All I want is to be standing there in that barn

Taking in all the sights

The wooden stalls all lined up

The horses' heads sticking out to smell you as you walk by

The cobwebs covering the ceilings

The muddy tracks left by the horses

Walking through the back door overlooking the pasture

This is home for me.

The pasture is where the horses are free

Free to play, graze, and relax after their days work.

To sit out there with them and watch them

It's indescribable.

This is home for me.

The trails are where I let everything go

All my problems left in a cloud of dust behind me.

Knowing that there is nothing else ahead

Nothing but the trails full of possibilities

Possibilities to explore, to see something new

I know these trails like the back of my hand

I will never forget them and all the good memories they hold

Those trails were my life for the longest time.

The horses, the barn, the pasture

It was home to me.

Nothing will ever change that

The summer memories of horse camps and riding lessons

And the unforgettable winter rides in freezing weather.

I will always look back at the barn and see all of this

It will never be the same after this though.

Walking that path once again

I look around one last time

Smelling those familiar smells

And hearing the sounds I once grew up to slowly fading away.

Trying to hold back the tears in my eyes

As I try to figure out what I am going to do.

Walking through that barn one last time

Catching a glimpse of the sawdust pile,

The lonely grain bins,

The dwindling supply of hay on the loft

The tack room door locked shut.

My home slowly fading away

Leaving me with only the memories

The smells I love, the sights I love to see

The number of horses in the pasture dwindling

The cobwebs will soon the be only thing left in that barn

That and the muddy tracks left from the last horses.

The trails with faded hoof marks where my troubles were once left

My home is gone

With only the memories left to cherish.