10/23/2024
The Forgotten Wheelbarrow
In a bed of fallen autumn leaves,
You stand alone, amidst the trees.
Your frame, rusted by the hands of time,
A story told without a rhyme.
Once you carried earth and stone,
Now you rest, tired and all alone.
The creak of your wheel, long silent now,
A testament to a farmer's vow.
Though seasons changed, and years went by,
You never bowed, you did not cry.
Now nature claims you as her own,
Among the leaves, you've found your home.
The wood that once was worn with care,
Now tangled, weathered, thin, and bare.
Yet in your rust, there's beauty still,
A steadfast heart, a quiet will.
So here you rest, in gentle peace,
Where time’s slow march will never cease.
And though you may no longer roam,
In these woods, you’ve found your home. Photography and poem - Kevin Payne
